


Of Grim Tales and Happily Ever Afters

by bakingphaninmymind



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dreams, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Magical Creatures, Misunderstanding, Parallel Universes, Valentine's Day, fairytale, merman, switching universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22612615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakingphaninmymind/pseuds/bakingphaninmymind
Summary: Once upon a time Dan and Phil started their own Valentine’s Day tradition. Friends do things like that to feel less lonely after all. However, this time their annual practice ends with the boys on a rather shaky ground as they part ways for the night and the universe decides it’s had enough.Inconspicuous dangers await around every corner as the duo lands in a fairy-tale world full of frog princes, wishes and murderous puppies. Oh, and a fuck ton of hair. To return to the comfort of their own world, Dan and Phil must face some sticky truths of the foundation that their friendship is built on and realise that the only way forward is by sticking together.A.K.A. the story I started writing when the power was out and the one in which I like to mix Present Day English with some Old English-- because why not. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Relationships: Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this story for a year. My flatmate had a short obsession with the Netflix series "Once upon a time" and our walls are rather thin so I could hear all the dialogues. Eh, and then this happened one day when the power was out. I don't know the plot of the series. The series was rather an inspiration or a kick for me to create this work and I'm so happy because I had loads of fun writing this!
> 
> Thanks to my beta @talismandjh on Twitter who helped make this baby shine!

All of the tables were busy, but they were the only ones not gaping at each other, goofy smiles plastered on their faces. Dan was laughing, though, just as Phil slurped a rather substantial amount of noodles and some of the sauce got stuck on his mouth. Phil fixed him with a glare just as Dan hid his smile behind a handkerchief.

In the middle, a candle was burning, its soft flame dancing, creating shadows on the surface. Dan sighed and leaned his chin on his hand, looking around. Phil’s handkerchief rustled as he cleaned himself up and cleared his throat. Dan looked mindlessly between the couples – some seemed to know each other for years while some appeared so nervous as though this was not only their first date but the first time meeting another human and being faced with the need to interact.

“I envy them,” Phil mumbled, and Dan looked back to his friend. His eyes were roaming the room as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

He really should get a haircut soon. The only reason he hadn’t was that Phil swore he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and he also believed it could bring bad luck if he did that now – or his psychic abilities told him so.

“Do you not?” he asked, and Dan blinked, caught off guard.

“Who?” he shot back dumbly, and Phil winced but motioned at the other patrons.

“They seem in love,” he said, and Dan’s eyes wandered around the room, looking between different tables.

Sure, people seemed to be having a good time but so were they.

“I wonder what it’s like to spend this holiday like this,” Phil pressed on and Dan stared into his plate, grabbing his fork and plunging it into the noodles, twisting the silverware like it was his life purpose.

“Do you not?” his friend repeated just when Dan shovelled some food into his mouth, feeling his smile and the good mood drop. He gave a nonchalant shrug, fixing his gaze in his plate, the tomatoes and mozzarella, noodles and some sauce.

He swallowed around his bite painfully, washing it down with some of the wine. Phil’s eyes traced his every movement. Finally, Dan gave a small smile, playing with his glass. He had to do something with his damn hands.

“What difference does it make?” he retorted. “It’s a sales-driven holiday, socially constructed to fuel consumerism, Phil. There’s little about love today.”

Phil grimaced and stuck his eyes in his noodles, giving a curt nod.

Dan quickly changed the conversation to a lighter topic – existentialism.

page break

They came back home and put on a movie. Dan drifted slowly towards Phil, as per their agreement neither of them has ever voiced and rested his head on Phil’s shoulders. They cuddled, as friends did, and Dan was not thinking about the warmth pooling off from Phil. Wherever their shoulders brushed or touched, Dan became hyperaware of that place. His hand instinctively, yet hesitantly came up to play with Phil’s hair, the owner of which stiffened first until he rested his head on Dan’s shoulder in return and sighed. Dan adjusted carefully, lowering himself into the couch because friends did that stuff, right?

“You want a blanket?”

“Yes, please.”

Obviously, it was Dan who had to stand up, not that he minded. He pulled himself out of the comfortable arrangement and reached for the fluffy duvet. As he lay the material over their bodies, he regretted his decision. When he sat down, though, Phil’s head returned to its previous location, which was Dan’s shoulder, as though it was meant to be there. Dan sighed as they played the movie and Dan tried to be less interested in the concept of personal space. He was overthinking their relationship once again when there wasn’t much to be thinking about in the first place. They were friends. Friends did this. This was totally platonic.

Therefore, Dan rested his head against Phil’s. He snuggled further into the blanket shamelessly and pried his eyes away from Phil to look back at the telly.

page break

The movie credits came on the screen and Dan realised he wasn’t really paying attention to what the characters were doing or what the main drama was, but he kept looking over at Phil throughout the movie. He smiled and sighed internally with relief. Phil’s eyes were barely open so Dan doubted his friend would want them to have their usual movie discussion.

Dan followed the names rolling down the screen, some known, some unknown, until it made his eyes bleed. He shut and opened his eyes, trying to blink himself awake. He looked over at Phil and smiled, moving his shoulder gently.

“Come on, sleepyhead. The movie’s finished,” he whispered, running a hand through Phil’s hair. The man only let out some unintelligible sounds.

Despite the fact that it was already rather late into the evening, Dan rolled his eyes fondly and kept playing with his friend’s fringe, putting the strands into different places.

“Do I always have to drag your sleepy ass to bed after a movie?” he murmured.

Phil whined and stirred but nuzzled more into his chest.

“Don’t move. I’m not going to,” he mumbled, and Dan chuckled.

“We have to. We’ve got stuff to do and places to be tomorrow,” he muttered softly.

“Yeah,” Phil answered in the same sleepy fashion. His voice sounded low and half-awake.

Very sexy.

They lay like that, one practically on top of the other, until the credits stopped rolling and the room was enveloped in darkness.

“We should move,” Dan said quietly but he honestly didn’t care at this point. He was just too damn comfy. “We’re going to fall asleep on this couch soon.”

“That’s a great idea,” Phil hummed in agreement. Instead of pulling himself up into a sitting position, he chose to make himself even more comfortable against Dan’s shoulder, his cheek pressed up against Dan’s shoulder.

Falling asleep on this couch really sounded like a great idea.

However, Dan’s logical part of his brain perked up, always wary and attentive, this wasn’t such a great idea in the end. They still had duties and meetings and normal daily tasks to complete the next day.

Dan groaned and nudged Phil in the ribs.

“Up you go.”

“You go,” Phil mumbled back, and Dan rolled his eyes in response.

“You’re on top. So scoot,” he persisted and Phil moaned as though he was in actual pain.

“Gah, you’re no fun,” he mumbled and slowly sat up. His eyes were still closed, and he rocked back and forth. Dan chuckled, seeing his friend in such an unconscious state and shifted to the edge of the sofa. He turned back to Phil and put a hand on his back.

“Getting up involves moving horizontally,” he reminded as if to tease or mock, but his voice sounded too soft to be anywhere near it.

Phil groaned and as if to prove his point – that sleeping on this very sofa was a great idea – he lay back down on his side, burying himself in the blanket. He even grabbed the nearest pillow and pulled it close to his chest like he was hugging it dearly. Dan gave a quiet laugh, but something pierced somewhere deep inside. He pushed whatever thought that might have been and got up.

On the table, there were mugs of tea that have gone cold with only some of it left at the bottom. A bowl of black popcorn Phil managed to have burnt in the microwave rested beside. His friend’s face fell when he’d realised what he’d done, and Dan was quick to assure him that it was still okay to eat. Oh, how wrong was he. They’d laughed about it in the end and Phil looked at him, all beaming and happy.

Dan smiled at the memory, at the way Phil’s lips raised in a thankful smile and his eyes shone. He looked over to his asleep friend and then gathered the porcelain mugs into one hand and grabbed the bowl of popcorn with the other. He walked to the kitchen, turning on every light. He threw the burnt popcorn into the trash and dumped the dishes into the sink, deciding to deal with them in the morning.

Just as he turned in the direction of his bedroom, he froze.

Their sofa was comfortable, but it was not a bed. He’d woken several times with an especially mean kink in his neck after having fallen asleep there.

Dan sighed and told himself that he should be looking out for such old people like Phil and turned on his heel. Phil was his friend and friends helped each other.

He walked into the room and rolled his eyes. Phil was buried in the blanket, curled up right where he left him. Oh, and he was very much asleep. Dan smiled softly and sat next to him, shaking him gently.

“Get up. You’ll regret this in the morning.”

Phil muttered something under his breath and Dan rolled his eyes.

“Come on now. It’s late and we both need sleep.”

Phil grumbled again. Dan raised a brow.

“What?”

“Carry me and I shall go,” he mumbled, and Dan laughed.

Dan leaned down, fixing Phil with a long, hard stare, rolling his eyes. Such a dork.

“Not happening, buddy,” he said, grabbing Phil’s arm, trying to rouse him. Phil giggled.

“Hey, buddy, you in London?” Phil mumbled at the very verge of consciousness, giving the question a sing-like tone. Dan snorted and patted Phil on the shoulder. A few moments later, his friend dared to grace this world with his angelic gaze and opened his eyes.

For some reason, Dan drew closer and for a second, Phil’s gaze darted to Dan’s lips and Dan couldn’t help but do the same. Phil licked his lips. Dan swallowed hard. The sight was very enticing. Sarah did the same and the next second for all he knew they were kissing and Dan thought — holy shit.

It was that moment, too.

Dan dropped his gaze, moved away, too little space, too little air, avoiding Phil’s gaze, his lips, his nose – avoiding anything except his forehead. The forehead was acceptable. He patted Phil on the shoulder, wincing, cringing at the action; internally, he wished to be anywhere but here; but still, wondering how he’d taste, would Dan feel something for once, would it be as awkward as it felt with Sarah, were his lips soft to the touch, would Phil be quiet the whole time or would he let if just one little sound. Sweet to his ears, warm to his soul, oh wait, there was none, and this was getting out of hand—

“You’ll wake up with a kink if you sleep here.”

A solid ground was what he needed. And to be away from Phil as only possible.

He couldn’t fuck them up, it mattered too much.

Dan left the room and hid under his covers.

Phil walked by but his fist lowered before he could knock.

Neither of them wanted it to be a fairy tale with a bad ending.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the author is losing their mind, the poetry is bland, and therapy simply costs too much. Welcome to the land where tales do not make any sense. (PS. I am in therapy now, probably the only reason why I was able to finish this XD
> 
> Thanks to my beta @talismandjh on Twitter who helped make this baby shine!

Phil awoke with a start. His skin itched and something hard pressed against his back.

“Come on, up you get, Phil,” his mum said, standing in the doorway.

Phil blinked. He could only see her outline. He fumbled around, blindly searching for his glasses. He always set them on the nightstand, but they were not there. Anyway, what was his mum doing in their apartment?

Something caught under his fingernail and Phil hissed. Was it a splint? His furniture was polished, though. He would never get a surface this uneven and the nightstand that he was feeling under his fingertips right now did not feel like his nightstand. His glass vases would dangerously teeter on the edge.

He brought his hand close to his face and looked at his finger. He scrunched up his nose because it seemed like a splint. Had he watered his cacti before bed and forgot to put them away?

“Phil, come up. You promised to deliver the basket to Granny,” she said, reappearing in the doorway, arms crossed, face probably set in frustration - the sight so familiar from back when he was still in secondary school. But that was then, not now. He lived on his own, with Dan.

“Where's Dan?”

“Oh honey, we've talked about this before. He can't train you and neither can his father. Would your eyes see good… but fret not, you will be master in herbs.”

Phil scrunched his eyebrows. Why was she speaking in such a bizarre way?

“Now, Philip, up.”

He did as he was told because a formal name meant trouble. Phil got up, noticing that he was not in his bed but in a cot of some kind. He shifted and felt the mattress and realised it was not a mattress. Under him, there was a hand-made mattress filled with blades of dried hay. It must have been the reason why his skin felt so itchy.

“What the-”

Alert, he shot upwards into a sitting position, completely awake. The night table was made from hardwood and the floor was also uneven and very much unpolished. It was not their flat. It was a hut.

Phil looked down at his shirt. It was itchy, oversized, and seemed to be made out of white linen. He snorted at his own imagination for giving this dream such details.

His mum called out once again and Phil kneeled on the floor and found some boots under the bed. He frowned when he saw they were made from leather and thought what Dan would say about such use of animal resources. The shoes reached his ankles and though they looked like they would serve pain to anyone who wore them, they were actually comfortable.

Phil walked to the next room. Or was it a chamber? What was the language like in those times? What about the vocabulary?

Phil shrugged. It was just a dream after all. Dan would laugh at it later.

page break

Dan was not amused when his father made him wear pants that clung to his skin as if someone poured water on him. And they smelled really weird and they haven't invented underwear yet so his crotch area was uncomfortably squeezed in the leggings. He was, once again, not amused.

That morning Dan woke up laying on a pile of fur. It was thick but soft and seemed shockingly realistic. It also turned out that Dan was a hunter now, which was crazy, and his father informed him that they had to set out on hunt “for the big bad wolf”. His words, not Dan’s.

This dream world was weird. Dan felt like the human manifestation of the Arrow TM series and there was a sorry excuse of a barrier between his privates and the rest of the world.

At least, Phil was not in this dream. Knowing himself, this dream could only take a turn for the worse.

The forest they were making their way through was thick and dark. It was quiet, eerily quiet. The air around them seemed dense as Dan breathed it in but it also seemed like every tree and a blade of grass or a flower was encircled in some sort of a glow. It looked like a magic-like gleam, a halo.

His father was leading them through the thick branches. Least to say, it was weird seeing him dressed in leather and carrying a bow and a knife in his boot. Suddenly, he halted and glanced over his shoulder at Dan. He brought a finger to his lips and signalled Dan to stay quiet and alert. His ears must have picked something up because he turned his head. He quietly attached an arrow to the string and pointed in the direction of the trees. Dan listened in. There was a rustle. Something was coming but it wasn’t a rabbit or a fox. A deer? A roe? A wolf?

His father pulled the bow’s drawstring to his face, ready to fire a shot any second. Dan stood tense, listening, trying to figure out what was coming in their direction.

The sound was nearer now, and Dan finally realised what it was. Human steps.

He caught the arrow in the moment his father let the string go. A person stumbled from out of the thick tree line. Phil.

His father laughed. Dan froze, and Phil paled at the sight of a weapon.

“Atta boy, good reflex,” his father said, turning to Dan and patting him hard on the back, causing him to step back, “I'd have shot that one had you not stoppest me.”

Dan was staring at Phil, at his leather boots, a mess of hair, a basket in his hands. He remembered what he was wearing. He wanted to cover himself, but a ridiculous thought came to his mind; he was a hunter and it was a pride to be one.

“Who arst you?” asked his father.

“That's Philip, son of Aldreda,” Dan cut in before he could stop himself.

The words leaving his mouth were foreign, he didn't know where he knew that information from but somehow, he _knew_ it to be true.

“Ah, that's a big name for a small folk like you. Doth your mother wit you be hither? You shouldn’st stray from the path.”

Phil turned his head in the direction of his father. His eyes looked over Dan but he showed no sign of recollection. Were they strangers in this dream? Maybe it was better than Phil seeing his crotch.

“I was on my way to grandmother, but I met a rabbit,” Phil said, a blush on his cheeks. “I wanted to feed it so I followed it, but I lost it and then got lost myself.”

Dan couldn't help but roll his eyes. It was too Phil-like to do something like that; risk his life for an animal and yet come out unscathed.

He then realised he was thinking in medieval terms, but this was not his life, it was all a dream. Physically, he was back in his room, asleep in his bed. This was not real.

“Geth back on the path, boy, and strayeth no more. Haven't you heard these woods are haunted by wolves? They can come and biteth you. They canst get you at home. You shouldn't been here at all,” his dad rebuked and Phil opened and closed his mouth. The bottles and jars in his basket clinked as he fidgeted.

“Uh, yes, I will, I– prithee, could you assist me to it? I don't have a good eye.”

His father regarded Phil with a glance and then sighed.

“I have no time for this wolf needs to be takenth care of. However, I will leave you my son, Daniel, to bring you back on the true path.”

True path? Dan had no time to think about the weird phrase as his father slapped him on the shoulder so hard that he had to take a step back so as not to fall.

“Daniel?” Phil echoed and Dan flushed slightly.

“He havst the great potential to become a good hunter in the future. It is my promise that no harm will come your way. Now go on and lead that boy thither. Well met! Farewell! Anon, Daniel.”

“I thank thee,” Phil said, doing a cute little bow.

Dan stepped over to his friend, lost for words.

“Cometh,” Dan said. Even his medieval vocabulary didn’t work in the face of his friend.

Phil strained his eyes to look at Dan and Dan felt just a little sorry for him. He knew how badly oriented Phil became without his glasses or lens. At the same time though, he felt very lucky that no remark of his pants would be made.

“I'm Phil-ip,” he said but it sounded like the formal form came out forced. Dan nodded as if in a greeting, having no clue about the social cues.

They parted with his father and set back deep into the woods together. Dan led Phil, pulling up branches for his friend so he wouldn't get hit in the face. Of course, back then the glasses didn't exist. Aldreda must have trouble to find the boy things to do.

Wait- What??

“You haveth quite a reputation around here,” Phil then said, breaking the silence.

“I am the youngest and the best hunter in all of the region. What haveth you to tell?”

What was the decorum? The hierarchy? He didn't want to speak like that to Phil. Why were words leaving his mouth with his no say in them? It was _his_ dream. He was a dick, not a hunter.

Phil seemed to agree on that one as he didn't reply. They continued on, Dan clearing the road clear and Phil following in silence. The sky gleamed, the trees seemed to whisper and the birds sang a melancholic note.

Then, Phil mumbled something inaudibly.

“What durst you say?”

“This sucks balls. This stupid dream.”

“I cry your mercy?” he bit his tongue and physically forced his own words to come out. It felt like breaking through the fourth wall, and surely like knocking down a barrier made of brick or concrete.

He felt like the tape that forbid him from speaking his thoughts left his mouth, unlacing his tied tongue together with it. He knew he could speak his own contemporary language now.

“It’s my dream, not yours,” Dan argued.

Phil stooped for a moment and regarded Dan with a once-over.

“This sounds like that inception movie. Lol.”

Dan blinked and cringed internally.

“I can't believe you just lol'd at me out loud. Restart me, please.”

Phil laughed.

“Aren't you too great and mighty of a hunter to use such low language?”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“It wasn't me, it was- whatever this is,” he said, hoping his explanation made sense. Maybe they knew each other for too long because Phil only nodded.

“What's with this place anyway?”

Dan shrugged.

“It's a dream, don't expect logic.”

“It’s my dream, though,” he shot back.

“How can you be sure? For all I know, you are a figment of _my_ imagination.”

“True,” Phil muttered, and they continued on through this bizarre world. Dan sneaked one or two glances at Phil but when he realised Phil barely saw the branches in front of him and he wouldn’t notice a little bit of staring, Dan ogled him.

Phil wore regular brown trousers, a similar ordinary shirt and a red cloak rested on his back. Dan looked down. The trousers only reached his ankles and the socks were different colours.

Dan chuckled.

“What,” Phil demanded, glancing back at him and Dan stared at the ground.

“You. You're… well, you.”

Phil said nothing. And then–

“What are those anyway?” Phil asked, pointing down at Dan’s trousers. His cheeks flushed and he laughed nervously.

“The latest fashion trends,” he mumbled, intent on flicking the branches away, hoping Phil let this subject go.

“No but seriously. Are those–”

“They’re trousers. And yes, before you ask, and as you probably know, they don't fancy underwear around here.”

The silence stretched on and they walked further into the forest. Dan flushed. Was Phil just checking out his ass? No, impossible, he was practically blind anyway. He wouldn't see anything inappropriate, right? No matter Dan’s fears or wants, he didn't dare turn around.

“Oh,” told Phil at last. “Is it… comfy?” he prodded gently, and Dan snorted.

“Liberating, you might say.”

He wondered why he even bothered explaining this to dream Phil.

page break

Phil couldn't get it out of his mind from the moment he heard it. The dream Dan considered the lack of undergarments liberating which was worrying. If this was the way he'd discover his kink, in a dream, with a dream Dan and the lack of layer underneath… if this was this kind of a dream, Phil would not be able to face his friend for an entire day again.

And Dan had to be walking in front of him! Right in front of Phil! He couldn't peel his eyes from his bottom, his poor sight transfixed on what he didn't even see. Come to think of it, it was a nice self-censorship his mind put on him for this dream. It would save him from embarrassment when he woke up and faced Dan in their kitchen.

Dan then said something but it slipped his notice.

“Huh?”

He needed some cold water poured on him or else he wouldn't survive this dream.

Just don’t think about the pants, don’t think about the pants…

“What's with that weird…?” Dan stopped and gesticulated with his hand. Phil raised a brow but then nodded.

“The basket, you mean? It's for my Grandmother. I have to deliver this to her.”

Dan nodded although his nose scrunched up. Dan turned and started walking again and Phil was left in a battle of proper manners. To glare or not to glare, that was the question.

“Does this place also seem weird to you?” Dan said and Phil unglued his eyes from burning holes in Dan's trousers – nothing else beneath – and looked around at their surroundings for the first time.

The forest was dense now. It wasn't when he followed the weird white rabbit earlier. He didn't walk for so long, too. Maybe dream Dan was not that good of a hunter? They did get lost with their GPS that one time, after all.

“You shouldn't expect logic in dreams,” he repeated Dan's words with a grin. Phil saw him shake his head in annoyance, so he added, “But something’s definitely up.”

“Yeah, it's almost like–” he stopped himself short and Phil waited for a second, then another but Dan didn't finish.

“Like?”

Dan laughed.

“Never mind. It's stupid.”

“Oh, come on! Share with me,” he asked softly.

Dan breathed out, stopped and waited until Phil dodged a branch and stopped by his side. Phil’s breath got caught in his throat as he stood next to his friend, dressed in leather and carrying a bow on his back.

“It's almost…” Dan wondered, biting his lip, “It’s almost like we're in a story.”

Phil snorted which was a bad idea as Dan looked him in the eye dead serious.

“No, we aren't,” Phil argued. “You're in my dream and I don't know any tales.”

“But I do,” Dan deadpanned but Phil only shook his head.

“Well, I certainly don’t so don't worry. Nothing's gonna eat you. My mind is unable to come up with such stuff.”

Dan bit his lip.

“What if it’s true?” he challenged.

They were standing very close and it was the first time Phil saw his features with sharp quality. The Dan in his dream even had the same bruise on his elbow that he had after having hit his arm against the kitchen cabinet. He looked so real. Wow, the night before gave him a lot of intel. It was a shame that the only purpose for it was so that his brain could cast Dan in a dream where he used a bow and wore tight trousers.

“I don't know tales so we can't be in one,” he said, hoping to get those inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

“I know you don't so that's why you think so.”

Phil glared. Dan shifted where he stood, adjusting the bow and the bag with the arrows on his shoulder.

“You're only my imagination so everything that I know about you is what you know.”

Phil shook his head.

“You’re in my dream, not the other way around. So we're one hundred percent _not_ in a fairy tale.”

Dan looked down, bit his lip and then shrugged.

“Whatever.”

He started on again, only this time he wasn't waiting for Phil. He also didn't clear the path for him. Phil followed but every two seconds, he walked into a branch, leaves or once a spider. He let out a cry of surprise.

“Dan, wait!”

He went on blindly, shutting his eyes whenever he was coming close to a tree. Then, he barrelled right into Dan.

“I just stopped for you!”

“I didn't see! Did you forget I have no glasses?” Phil cried out as they both took one step back to look at each other.

“Dan… I–”

“It doesn't matter,” he said, voice empty and Phil bit his lip. “This is your dream anyway.”

Dan didn't look him in the eye, Phil was sure of that even without glasses. He’d been the recipient of that look much too often lately.

“Dan, I didn't mean it like that–”

Dan shook his head and pointed in the direction of a clear path.

“This is the path and it's where we separate,” he said quietly. He still wouldn't look at Phil.

It hurt.

Phil opened his mouth and closed it. He cleared his throat.

“I bid thee farewell then, lad?” he asked, hoping to lighten up the mood.

Dan only lifted his hand and gave a wave before he disappeared back into the woods. Phil stared after his blurry silhouette as long as he could make it out and then he set off on the path again, lost in his mind.

page break

Dan stomped back to where he left his father. Wherever they were supposed to meet.

This was shit. This was not a dream but a nightmare. And Phil… couldn't dreams be more fantasy, less reality? It hit too close to home and left him in anger and helplessness.

And these stupid trousers made squishy sounds whenever his thighs touched. He walked on like that for some time until the weight of the bow and the arrows felt too great and he pulled them down off his shoulder, discarding them on the ground. Dan sat down on a bunk and hid his face in his hands.

He hated this. He hated last night. Hated that it almost happened, and that it didn't happen in the end. Couldn't they be clear on what they wanted? And not act like teenagers? Because he knew it, there was something between them and damn it but he wasn't about to pretend there wasn't.

_“Two met one day_

_One was a day, the other was night_

_But as much opposites they had_

_Love shall bind them together_

_For one is not whole with his half not around_

_And so is the other when the first one is lost.”_

Dan raised his head and turned around upon the sound.

What. The. Fuck.

A talking bird.

It sat on a branch in front of him and sang as if that was its sole purpose in life, rather than flying and shitting on people's cars.

The bird turned its little head in his direction, as if in disapproval. As if it could hear his thoughts.

 _“I do not hear what doesn't want to be heard,”_ it spoke. IT SPOKE.

“What is this?” he heard himself say against his better judgment that speaking to a talking bird spoke volumes about his sanity rather lack thereof. Dreams are supposed to be a combination of one's thoughts, often scrambled and out of order. So, what was a talking bird doing here?

_“This is not a dream and you are sane_

_Hear me out for you must make haste._

_You both had it coming_

_For years upon years_

_Where you decided to squash your love for tears._

_You must be quick; you must not think._

_Trust what your instinct tells you._

_You, Daniel, are in fact right.”_

Dan winced at the poor rhymes and felt anxious hearing these words and not having Phil by his side.

He scanned the forest and now he could see it. The trees, the animals. It was all magical. Out of this world. The gleam. It was a glow of a fantasy world.

“This is a tale,” he whispered.

_“Think of the book_

_You know which one.”_

Dan was a hunter, Phil was… Phil? He was a peasant in this story, a lower-class lad.

_“Remember, Daniel, your grandma's words.”_

“That it is not the world that makes the story, it is its characters,” he said quietly.

The bird nodded solemnly.

Fuck, did everything need to be put into rhymes?

But they sounded so pure and so right.

Fuck this. He needed to think, not wonder about poor poetry.

A hunter. It was him. There was a forest, a path… An innocent lad? The problems with vision. The basket. The red-

The Red Riding Hood.

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Phil reached the Grandma's house just in time for the darkness to rule over the land. He was tired, irritated and hungry. He was irritated because he was hungry. Not because Dan shot him down in his own dream.

_“No, it is not.”_

A squeaky voice sounded from behind. Phil turned around and flinched. It was a squirrel. Of all the things his mind could have come up with…

_“Hear me out for it is true and Dan is right_

_This is a tale and you must keep on track_

_Find the true path and you shall discover_

_The happy ending within one another.”_

Phil cringed and pinched his skin. Within one another? Sure. This was a dream and he had to wake up from it. Pinching his skin only made him wince in pain though. Maybe he truly had to go through with it for it to end? Like the dreams in which you had to jump from a high building to force your body to wake up.

 _“Now go in because I've got no energy to make up more poetry,”_ the squirrel said, nudging its head in the direction of the house.

Phil blinked and shrugged. Whatever, as Dan said. All tales had happy endings because they were written for children. Nothing bad could happen.

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Tales were not written for children. Especially the ones created by Brothers’ Grimm. They were bloody, often full of murder, violence, death. Whatever this was — an alternate dimension or a stupid dream — Dan could not let Phil get hurt. His friend wouldn't even know they were in a tale!

He huffed and puffed as he sprinted through the forest, the bow and the bag with the arrows digging into his shoulder and scratching against his back. In a matter of minutes, he reached the path. Good thing he also had the physical endurance of a hunter because Phil would be so dead if he were himself.

No, he shouldn't joke like that. It was like inviting evil into his own home.

He had no idea where he was, or the house was. How was he supposed to save Phil if he didn't even know his whereabouts?

_“Love shall bind them together_

_For one is not whole with his half not around_

_And so is the other when the first one is lost._

_Listen to your heart, it will lead you right.”_

The bird sang again as it appeared out of nowhere.

Dan let the queerbaiting context slide as he shut his eyes and breathed deeply. He listened to the woods, to the breeze. He shut his eyes tighter and tried to focus.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes and wailed.

“Why can't this stupid dream…” he trailed off as his gaze landed on marks in the path. There were multiple, the path was often taken, yet he could make out some that seemed careless as if the person walking would stumble on a branch that stood out. As if it was someone with poor sight.

_The path diverged in a wood and he_

_Took the one less travelled by_

_And that has made all the difference_ (Frost).

Dan breathed in relief and followed the trail.

Minutes later, his blood ran cold as he discovered some other marks. Not human, but animal.

Prints of a wolf.

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Phil couldn't believe it. It was his grandma, just as he remembered her. Only now she was speaking the same old language and was still alive in his dream.

He stared in awe as she looked over the contents of the basket and laughed in delight.

“Aldreda should not haveth made so much goodness. Oh, Philip, sit you down and have a laugh!”

He didn’t understand but that was okay. She beckoned him to come farther into the hut, to sit on one of the chairs and he did, enchanted by the view of her alone.

“Did thou eat most well?” she gave him a sweet smile and he nodded.

“Dost not forswear, Philip. I will make thee some bellytimber.”

“I thank thee,” he whispered, remembering the phrase, and watched her busy herself.

She smiled as she stirred the fire. He rose from his chair and rushed to her side.

“I can help,” he assured her. She gave him a little smile as if she didn’t understand and he quickly added, “Prithee?”

She nodded and gave him a pot, nodding in the direction of the door. Phil looked down, unsure of what to do with it.

“Water. Thither.” She nodded once again and Phil smiled, still no idea as to what to do with it but he took the pot and walked outside.

A well. Well, a well it was.

The dark was falling fast as he made his way to the stone structure. When he reached it, he was puzzled again as he surveyed the mechanism. He gripped the crank and gave it a few turns. He couldn’t see into the well; its depth was concealed in darkness, but he did hear as if something had risen from within the well and up.

Encouraged, Phil tried the bucket to the line. Quickly but with some strain, he lowered it into the well, careful not to let it fall off. He soon hit the surface of the water and then turned the cork in the opposite direction.

The bucket was much heavier now and Phil sighed with relief when it finally resurfaced again. He somehow managed to untie it and some water sloshed.

With a grin, he came back inside the hut. His grandma smiled at him as she stood in front of the fire. He noticed she was stirring something in a pot and a sweet aroma was wafting off in waves. She smiled as if to apologise for her trickery as it appeared, she didn’t need any water.

Phil approached her slowly, scared she might disappear if he acted too quickly. Her hair was thin and grey, just like it had been in the photographs. She seemed frail yet radiated strength. Phil reached out with his hand and she turned around. She smiled lovingly.

“Thou art a strapping young lad.”

And then they heard the first howl.

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Dan had never run so fast in his life and, come to think of it, he would not run like this ever again. After all, this — whatever this was – was over, Dan would not have this body of a trained hunter. No more liberating trousers, too, which he counted as a win.

Somewhere far away, a wolf howled, and Dan sped up. Somehow, he knew to keep his breathing in check and to dodge the branches that Phil most likely got hit by — he could tell by the footprints.

The road cut abruptly, and Dan struggled to find the trail again. He picked it up in the grass, but it was barely visible. The dusk was falling and soon, he would not see the toes of his own feet.

The howl continued and Dan, feeling this was a do-or-die situation, shut his eyes again. This time he believed he would know the way. His heart would lead him to Phil. Or something along those lines.

Dan calmed down his breathing and kneeled. He touched the grass, feeling how it grew colder as the warmth slowly subsided. He took another breath in, focusing on Phil, his basket, the funny red cloak, the mismatched socks. The wolf howled yet again but when Dan opened his eyes it was with a sense of direction.

No, not sense. It was certainty.

He started off again. The night was approaching and with every step he took, he thought the next might be the one when he would tumble to the ground, but some hunter’s instincts kicked in and Dan jumped over the roots. Oh, if real life was so easy.

A hut came into view and Dan’s heart sped up. As he came into the clearing and no trees were obstructing his view, he saw that the front door was open. Then he heard a shout. It was Phil.

Dan slowed down, taking an arrow and preparing to shoot. He stepped closer to the hut. A trail of blood was smeared on the floor. His heart stopped. A howl. A growl. A shout.

Dan sprinted inside, blood in his ears, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Ready to murder the thing that wanted to hurt Phil.

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Phil was cornered, he really had no way to go.

He mounted the table and shrieked when the goddamn dog jumped up as if to reach his trouser leg. That was scary. The dog jumped again but it was clear it was too short to reach him. Nevertheless, Phil took a step behind. Better safe than sorry.

“Doggy, down, down?” he tried but it only seemed to anger the evil creature more.

“Stay? Please, just stay, just go.”

The dog barked and jumped once more, once more not reaching the surface of the table. Then, it stopped and disappeared for a moment. Phil looked around in fear of its unknown whereabouts. He heard some movement under the table and slowly, Phil kneeled on the table, leaning forward and trying to look under.

The creature barked and jumped. Phil cried out, his heart rate rising, almost falling on the floor. Something slammed against the front door and Phil turned to see not his grandma, but Dan.

The string of the bow was stretched tight. Dan was ready to shoot. It only accentuated his fitting trousers even more. His eyes held a somewhat murderous glint as he scanned the scene before him. He slowly loosened the string, breathing hard.

“Hi?” Phil blurted out.

The corgi barked furiously at his voice and he flinched as he kneeled on the table, suddenly becoming aware of the position Dan found him in.

Dan glared down at the small but homicidal dog and the animal silenced right away, cowering under his gaze. Like he was superior, an alpha.

Dan walked further into the room, looking around, eyes scanning their environment in a frantic manner.

“Where’s the wolf?”

Phil sat down on the table, unsure if it was safe to get down yet.

“What wolf?” he asked, raising a brow.

“The wolf, it-” he paused, then turned to Phil. He crossed the distance almost swimming up to him in one swift motion. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Phil wanted to make a joke such as ‘Only my ego got hurt’ but the worry in Dan’s eyes, his firm features… it would be just cruel.

“I’m okay, it’s just this dog…” he trailed off and his face flushed.

Dan let out a breath.

“So, there was no wolf?” he asked for the hundredth time.

“Yeah, I mean my grandma said they don’t dare come near here because– because of something. I didn’t really understand her weird language.”

“What was the blood then? Are you okay? Did it get you anywhere?” his questions came like fire and he turned to look at the corgi again which whimpered in response.

Phil laughed.

“No, actually, my grandma… she took this chicken and–” he winced at the memory, “you get the drill. It was terrible, I’m never eating chicken again.”

“So, you’re alright?”

“Yes, Dan, calm down.”

He stood up from the table and walked up to his friend. The urge to touch him was overwhelming. Phil put a hand on Dan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m fine. Everything’s okay. See, thee even slayeth the monster,” he told with a laugh, nodding at the submissive dog in the corner.

Dan breathed in and out.

“Did you meet any talking birds?”

Phil wrinkled his forehead and blushed. He gave a nervous laugh.

“No, what are you even talking about?”

“It talked to me. Like, I don’t know how it’s even possible but then again, everything is, right? If this is a dream. This must be a dream, right?”

He was babbling.

“Mine was a squirrel,” Phil then whispered, and Dan went silent.

“We’re in a tale?” he then asked, as if to make sure.

“What would it be then?”

“The Red Riding Hood,” Dan mumbled. “By the Grimm brothers.”

Phil nodded but his nose scrunched up.

“Why does it feel like it rhymes?”

“Everything here is not the same.”

“You’re doing it again!”

“I can’t stop it, and anyway, that was not a perfect rhyme.”

Phil rolled his eyes.

“It sounded like one at the same time.”

Dan cringed.

“That was sloppy.”

“Agreed and now let’s proceed.”

They both cringed, and the author called to heavens for redemption for such an insult on this mighty Shakespearean art.

Alright, it’s time for the characters to change universe.

Dan and Phil stared at each other in annoyance at the bad poetry they had to share and endure.

“Do you believe me now?” Dan asked quietly.

Phil thought of what to say.

“Wait so if this is a tale and I don’t know any but then you know them by heart… is this my or your dream we’re in?”

Dan opened and closed his mouth.

“I really don’t know,” he replied in defeat.

“I saw my grandma, though,” Phil then whispered, and Dan glanced at him.

His eyes were glistening, and Dan had to reach out to him. Awkwardly, as if they’ve never embraced, he placed a hand on his back, the other on the back of his head. Phil clutched onto him, burying his face in his chest. He did not cry so Dan just held him.

“She was amazing as you, wasn’t she?”

Phil shuddered.

“The best. She’d love you, too.”

Dan’s forehead wrinkled and he opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but then he looked around. The corgi was growing translucent, the objects on the table were fading. It was like the tale was ending.

“Phil, something’s happening.”

He felt it as if they were being pulled apart by force. Although Phil remained in his arms, Dan watched the world around them disappear. He was scared to lose his best friend again. Not this time around.

“Phil,” he whispered but his voice was fading slowly. “Remember. The Tales. They never end happily.”

Phil raised his head only to see Dan fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at first I wanted Dan to kill granny in a scenario where she becomes the wolf herself and Phil doesn’t notice because he can’t see her clearly. scary and dark, right?
> 
> also, one of the first socks invented don’t look like socks at all, but rather like a tool for torture. I mean, two holes? Did people have less toes?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys land in another fairytale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta @talismandjh on Twitter who helped make this baby shine even though they were on their break <3

Phil woke up, staring straight into the blinding sun.

His eyebrows rose and he slowly pulled himself to his full stance. A horse neighed nearby and Phil watched a white beauty fling its head round.

His mouth opened on its own accord.

“Your Majesty. Your Grace.”

Phil glanced about. A short man bowed at his right side. Phil blinked against the light behind the man’s back.

“Who arst thee?”

Back with the weird language.

The man’s features wrinkled, and he gave him a hand up.

“Maybe we should call off the rescue. That blow must haveth got you hard, your Grace.”

“What rescue that be?”

“Oh, Your Majesty! We should come thither, back to the kingdom. You arst not in shape for the coming adventure.”

“What rescue? Speakst hereth!”

The servant - was it a servant? who was Phil? - nibbled on his lip for a while. He looked scared not to agree on his master’s call.

“The rescue of the Danzelle prince, my Sir.”

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The rest was a blur. He denied any help and mounted the horse, the skill of horse riding coming out of nowhere like hunting had to Dan. Then, he drove all night and only rested when the poor animal could not go further. He started once again with the rising sun.

This one he knew. The tale and the ending.

It was a happy one. He vaguely remembered Dan warning him, but Phil knew this tale, what other twisted ending could there be?

Phil only needed to reach the tower and then he’d get to his friend.

The tower in question was as high as the skies. It was encircled with bushes of thorns and looked intimidating even though the sun was out in all its glory.

Phil squinted as he stared at the structure before him. The tower was made of out stone that looked like it came from a few hundred years earlier. No stairs accompanied the structure to help anyone enter. It didn’t seem to possess any entrance at all. The only way was through a balcony window at the top.

Phil remembered the words from the tale and tried them out on his tongue but felt he couldn’t do it to Dan. So, he opted for the safer option, hoping it would work. He did want his head after all this was done after all.

“Dan! Come out!” this time the words from their modern English came naturally and it didn't feel like breaking out of restraints.

Phil raised his eyes to the balcony, waiting, but no figure appeared. His heartbeat faster. What if Dan was not there? What if someone rescued him already?

“Dan? Are you there?” he cried out for all he could. Maybe the tower was so tall that his voice did not reach its end.

Phil began to walk in circles, his shoulders tense, when someone stepped out onto the balcony. Phil only saw a pin-like shape but he knew who it was.

“Dan!”

“There's no stairs,” Dan yelled from above. He sounded pissed.

“I know, I—”

“This bloody tower is hell.”

“That I can see,” Phil shouted back.

“What?”

“That I can see!”

“What you don't see?”

Phil rolled his eyes, wondering if Dan was pulling his leg or couldn’t hear him for real.

“You must say the words, My Grace.”

Phil jumped and clutched at his chest as the little servant man appeared by his left side. He seemed to have appeared out of thin air. How was that possible?

Phil rolled his eyes at the story’s mechanism and turned to face his servant. The man seemed strangely familiar and his voice was squeaky like an animal's.

“What words, sayest thee?” he demanded.

“The curse must be brokenth. That is how the Prince can escape. And only one and truest love doth that.”

Phil rolled his eyes. He was certainly not Dan’s truest love.

“What are they?” he asked instead.

The servant bowed his head in submission.

“It is sayeth that truest love will knoweth, Your Majesty.”

Phil bit on his lip and sighed.

“I'm not—”

“—You will knoweth and you better hurry for it is a heart's matter to know which path to take to find its truest half,” the servant cut in and Phil fixed him with a hard glare.

He was not a lover to Dan and Dan was not his, whatever everyone else seemed to think was the case. However, he did love Dan. They were friends. It was true love. Definitely pure. Platonic.

He let out a breath and looked up.

“Danzel, Danzel, let down your hair,” he whispered and stared up at his friend. For some unknown reason, Dan heard him and after he did, he flipped Phil off.

He walked to the balcony and flipped him off before he disappeared into the tower again. A minute later, he was back but now he was dragging something heavy behind.

Oh, this was definitely not happening, Phil thought, but it definitely was.

A second later a thick string of brown hair was thrown down like a ladder.

It was curly.

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Dan paced round the tower, nibbling on his nails. What if Phil slipped on the stupid hair? What if the tale turned dark like in some of its versions? The prince fell down on the thorn bushes and was blinded and the Rapunzel stayed and withered in the tower. The withering part must have been metaphorical — the princess must have starved to death — but what about the blinding of the young prince? Phil was already helpless without the glasses.

Minutes later, he heard his friend come up and Dan hurried to the balcony, his ridiculously long hair shuffling behind him like a cloak.

He reached out his hand for Phil to grab and pulled him into the balcony.

“Are you okay?” he worried, looking Phil over for any damage he could have taken while climbing up here.

Phil gave a reassuring smile and nodded as he slowly regained his breath.

“What’s with the—?” his friend gestured at the inside of the tower. Dan shut and opened his mouth as Phil took a few steps inside, looking around the numerous papers Dan pinned to the wall. They were all in his handwriting, but they weren’t his thoughts but seemed like countless song lyrics.

“Seriously, you have just called me Danzel. Now this is just bullying.”

Phil snorted and Dan crossed his arms but soon, a smile of his own crossed his face as he looked at his friend. He was just so glad to have him here—

“Is there… a brush caught up in there?” Phil asked as he stared at the hair that slid down Dan’s shoulders. Dan blushed but rolled his eyes nonchalantly.

“You were taking so long and— I needed to distract myself,” he mumbled, his cheeks rouge and Phil smirked, pointing at the offending piece of hair tool.

“Want me to help with that?”

Dan glared back at Phil and, arms crossed, walked over to the balcony.

“I don’t even care,” he mumbled and breathed in and out, trying his best to remain sane.

Phil bit his lip and walked up to Dan, shoving him good-naturedly.

“Isn’t it driving you nuts? It’s like– right in the centre.”

Dan rolled his eyes and stared ahead at the horizon. His eyes were blank and void of any emotion as he observed the surrounding forest.

“What we need to do is to get out of this forsaken place.”

Phil scrunched up his nose. Dan crossed his arms and glared at him again.

“Oh, not with the rhymes again.”

Dan rolled his eyes but a weak smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“If you want, I can _sing_ you love songs about abandonment, loneliness and unrequited love. It seems like this stupid character has them all in their pinkie finger,” he mumbled and giving Phil no time to answer, turned on his heel and walked back into the room.

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Although Dan appeared stoic, shadows weighed under his eyes. Phil could see how much he was fidgeting. The walls of the tower were littered with numerous maps, notes, quotes,z and lyrics. It seemed like Dan was working on how to escape this place or maybe just slowly descending into madness.

Phil bit his bottom lip as he observed his friend.

Songs about abandonment, loneliness and unrequited love, Dan said.

Ouch. But— did it mean…?

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he asked instead.

“Too damn long,” Dan grumbled as he tied the very end of his obnoxiously long hair around a column and pulled, checking if it was sturdy enough to hold them both. Phil opened his mouth, he had questions, but Dan sighed.

“Look, can we just hop on that white horse of yours and ride off into the sunset?” he asked, the words dripping sarcasm but also exhaustion and desperation so much so that Phil shut his mouth.

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he agreed but couldn’t peel his eyes away from the walls of the tower.

“Where is your sword?”

That caught Phil’s attention. He turned to Dan, flushing and stammering. Dan rolled his eyes and sighed.

“The sword. The big knife you use to impale your enemies on. Princes have those,” he said, hands on his hips.

“Oh, right,” Phil cackled nervously. “The sword. Right, course.” Dan fixed him with a stern gaze, crossing his arms and Phil’s shoulders sagged as he looked at the floor.

“I left it down, it would be impossible to come here with it and quite unnecessary.”

Dan nodded. His eyes flicked longingly to the balcony and he grabbed Phil’s hand.

“Whatever, let’s just go.”

And they did.

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He watched as Phil went down first, biting his nails, worried something would go wrong. He didn’t trust this fairy-tale world. Nothing bad happened, though. No one lost their sight to bushes with thorns and no one withered away, alone, in a tall dark tower. Dan shuddered.

“Dan? I will catch you, just let go now.”

He realised he was clutching onto the hair rope as if his life depended on it. He was only a few feet away from the ground, but Phil stood below, arms outstretched, ready to catch Dan in case he was about to fall.

“Just let go,” his friend murmured and something about his voice just put Dan at ease. He did let go and Phil caught him, and all would be well if this wasn’t a stupid fairy tale.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked right away and put a hand on Dan’s shoulder after he set him down on the ground.

Dan fixed his shirt and ran a hand through his hair but that only made him realise it was not short and curly but long and mostly straight. Suffocating. Restricting. Imprisoning. Just like the tower, the hair held him captive.

Dan whimpered and fell to his knees, so tired and weak.

“Cut it off. Just cut it off!” he cried.

“Okay, it’s okay. It’s just hair,” Phil murmured softly. “You’ll see we’ll laugh about it one day. I’ll take care of it. You’re okay,” Phil assured, and Dan’s shoulders shook.

Phil gathered Dan’s hair in his hands and laid it out on the ground. His fingers brushed against Dan’s back and he moved his hand up and down, his gentle voice easing Dan’s worries away.

Then, the sword cut through the air and Dan cried out as Phil set him free from most of that lively rope. The hair was still long though, Dan realised, and whimpered as he saw when he sat on his knees. Phil gave him a small smile as he patted at his pockets.

“I have a dagger somewhere. I’ll make it shorter,” he promised, and Dan just nodded. He held still when Phil sat behind him and cut through the rest of the hair, slowly changing it from shoulder-length into somewhat resembling his natural length.

It was not perfect but so liberating.

He turned to face Phil and buried his face in his friend’s chest, breathing heavily, as Phil wrapped his arms around him.

“Let’s go now. Let’s leave,” he whispered into Dan’s hair and Dan nodded.

Phil untangled himself from Dan and stood up, pulling Dan into a standing position, his touch secure and safe as he made sure Dan didn’t fall. His friend mounted his white stallion and offered Dan his hand as he climbed onto the horse. Dan breathed out and wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist, just happy he’d found his best friend at last.

“How long?” Phil asked, quiet, as he turned the horse. “How long did you have to wait?”

Dan opened his mouth as he thought about the answer. He trembled, shook his head and buried his face in Phil’s back.

“Felt like a lifetime to me,” he whispered.

Phil nodded and squeezed Dan’s hand that was wrapped around his waist. He clicked at the horse with his tongue and the stallion took off, obedient to its Lord.

They didn’t speak but that was alright. One day Dan would feel he wanted to talk but it didn’t have to be that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan discovers he might be in love with an... amphibian?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta @talismandjh on Twitter for reading through this whole thing and making all the corrections :3

Dan stared into the blinding sunset. One moment, his arms were wrapped around Phil’s midsection as they rode on the white stallion and the next, there was whiteness. He blinked hard, thinking the sun blinded him but it was no use.

“Phil, we are fading,” he shrieked but his voice was already losing its volume and Phil did not turn to look at him.

His grip was weakening, his fingers loosening around Phil’s clothes. Phil must have felt that because he held tight onto Dan’s hand. When his fingers grasped around Dan’s, it was with an unknown jolt of energy between them. 

“I think we should—“

The connection broken, Phil’s sentence was left unspoken. Dan blinked hard, trying to get rid of the unnerving whiteness assaulting his irises.

Then everything turned to black. Dan blinked, opened and shut his eyes, trying to see. After a moment it seemed the darkness formed into a shape. There were panels. Panels of dark wood that were carved into ornaments. The material under him was surprisingly soft, unlike the horse they rode on. But it was otherwise dark. Then, the shapes came and with it some realisations.

Dan realised it was not his eyesight or poor universe travel but the dark that rendered him incapable of seeing anything. He rolled on one side and his hand found a heavy material that acted as a barrier. He sat up and pushed on the material, finding it gave in under his hands. Dan pushed more and then he was wiggling, trying to catch his balance back up but it was futile. He fell into the heavy material, letting out a shriek as he landed hard on his butt.

He groaned and massaged his joints (and his ass), looking around the room. He found it to be well distinguished. He turned his head and the heavy material was a part of the canopy of the four-poster bed, its brown heavy material rich in embroidery. The wooden columns seemed firm, polished and definitely expensive.

“Your royal highness!” a voice spoke from the door. Dan didn’t even manage to blink before someone was pulling him up, dusting off the rich silk pyjama he was clad in.

“Did something happen, sir? Were you troubled by nightmares again? Maybe I should talk to the court physician?” the voice was babbling but Dan paid the man no mind as he walked up to the bay window. The man – his servant, right? – followed, pulling the thick curtains aside and letting in light.

“Would you want a bath, sir? I’ve already called in for breakfast. Do you wish to eat in your chambers?” the boy questioned as Dan stared down at the town, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

How in the hell he was supposed to find Phil in here? What story were they in?

“Sire?” his servant asked, and Dan turned to face him, mouth opening and closing.

“Tell me,” he blubbered out, almost sounding like he was going insane as he shook his servant’s shoulders, “do you know of someone named Phil?”

The man’s eyes went wide, and he paled.

“Sir, do you mean to ask about the son of Marcus, the Prince Philip?” he asked, his voice trembling and Dan’s brows furrowed.

“I guess so. What? What is it?” he almost shouted, eager, desperate.

“It’s just that,” the servant spoke, avoiding his eyes, “no one has seen him since last summer. He and his servant Harry have vanished,” he explained, and Dan’s grip grew weak and he let go of the boy. Dan stared down at the kingdom again, an empty and hollow feeling in his chest. The news already carved a hole inside his heart.

Phil had vanished over a year ago. Why were they separated in the least convenient moment again? Phil was saying something and if Phil was doing so, it was surely important. Whatever Phil said was important. Where was his friend now though? Dan was lost without him.

Royal page break

Dan was given a bath — the details of which he’d rather not tell anyone about — and then fed but even though in this universe there were people around him and he could walk out of the castle at any moment, something still didn’t feel right. Something was still missing.

Alright, someone.

Dan groaned, pulled on a brown cloak that shouldn’t attract much attention and walked out into the royal garden. He breathed in and out, feeling his muscles relax slowly as he looked about the green trees and colourful flowers.

This was so different from the tower he was trapped in. He wished he could share some thoughts with Phil.

His chest stung at the very mention of his friend and he frowned, blinking away the oncoming emotions.

“Oi! Sire, no!” someone shouted, and Dan’s head spun in the direction of that voice. His voice widened when he realised it wasn’t, he who was being addressed. He observed as a man tried to reach out into the court well, flinging his hands about as though to pull someone up. Dan’s eyes widened and he sprung into action. He sprinted up to the man, leaning above the well, just about to help the servant rescue his master or whoever was drowning in the well when he came to a halt.

The servant gasped beside him and Dan stared dumbly at the frog that was just doing lapses in the water.

“Are you Sir Daniel?” the man asked, and Dan turned his eyes to the servant who was already curtsying, lowering his eyes to the ground.

“I am Harry,” the man spoke, and Dan’s breath hitched because it was actual Harry Styles, no one else. This fairy tale couldn’t get any weirder now, could it?

“I serve prince Philip. He told me you’d know how to break his curse,” he spoke and Dan whipped his head back to the well, looking down at the frog.

“You must be shitting me,” he mumbled but he was already leaning down, pulling out his hand, waiting patiently until the frog jumped onto his hand. Dan pulled himself up, staring in shock at the blue eyes of the reptile which gave a happy croak, opening and closing his eyes as though in a greeting.

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Dan didn’t let Harry carry Phil the frog. It didn’t matter that it was the actual Harry Styles or that he pressed that the etiquette didn’t mention it as proper for a prince to carry a prince, that it was a servant’s place to do so but Dan fixed him with a death glare. He brought Phil the frog closer to his chest as though to shield him from no one else but Harry Styles himself.

Dan just didn’t trust the once lead singer of One Direction. The man could always trip and if he tripped and Phil fell on the ground, he could get hurt!

The frog croaked once again, looking up at him and Dan felt himself flush. Was he being too attentive and caring? Would Phil think he was acting very weird and tell him off if he could talk?

Dan bit his bottom lip and silently walked back into the castle, Harry following hot on his heels, quiet and obedient. Dan sniggered, thinking about the hierarchy in this universe and Phil looked up at him and croaked questioningly. Dan shook his head but when the frog’s eyes turned sad, he bit his lip and then whispered, hoping Harry wouldn’t hear him.

“It’s just— you know. The freaking Harry Styles wants to carry and serve _you_ ,” he mumbled, and the frog croaked a few times and Dan realised that Phil was laughing in its froggy way. There was something endearing about it and Dan knew that this really was his Phil.

They entered his chambers and Dan waved his servant off, introducing Phil, the prince frog, and Harry, the incognito pop star, to the other man. His servant stared wide-eyed, until Dan cleared his throat pointedly and the boy hurried.

“May I prepare guest chambers for… prince Philip and his servant?” he blurted out and Dan’s nose crinkled in dissatisfaction as he glanced down at the tiny animal sitting on his hand.

What if someone walked in during the night and thought he was just an ordinary rodent? What if Harry Styles tucked Phil in and accidentally suffocated him? He was so tiny, after all.

Before Dan thought what his answer could be received like, he was shaking his head, pulling Phil closer to his chest again.

“No, Phil-ip,” he caught himself in the last second. Decorum was still a thing. “Prince Philip will rest with me tonight. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs,” he said, without a thought, and blushed only when he saw the shocked expressions on the faces of their servants.

He cleared his throat, not looking down at Phil even though his friend croaked in a confusing way as if to ask him what was wrong.

“He’s an old friend of mine and that means he is also an old friend of the kingdom. I’ll make sure your prince is protected throughout the night. No harm will come his way,” he assured Harry, if only to save face.

Soon, the servants left, and Dan groaned as he set Phil down on the table, careful not to hurt him or squeeze him too much. Phil was still letting out tiny croaks, trying to catch Dan’s attention. Dan only sighed and rolled his eyes as he sat down. He was almost face-to-face with Phil that way and the frog bounced to the edge of the table.

“I know, I know,” Dan muttered, a faint blush still decorating his cheeks. “Could have handled that smoother, I know,” he said, coughing. Phil croaked in response and Dan chuckled as he looked into those blue eyes. Phil stared back, his froggy yet blue eyes so attentive. It felt like they were piercing right through Dab’s defences and could see every last secret of his.

Dan sighed and looked away, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Man, this is crazy. I mean, Harry Styles?” he said, laughing nervously, avoiding Phil’s eyes. The tiny animal let out an agreeing croak.

Dan looked back at Phil, biting his bottom lip. This was not only crazy. This was weird. Phil usually was the one who forced him to talk, it was never the other way around. And if Dan started a subject, Phil was quick to join in and offer his own answers or jokes.

Dan sighed once more and wiped his face with the back of his hand. It came away wet. Dan blinked in confusion and realised hot tears were pooling at the corners of his eyes and some were already dripping onto the table.

A croak sounded from that direction and Dan looked down, wiping his eyes, trying not to burst into tears or some sort of a panic attack.

“Sorry, it’s just— we get separated every time and I’ve been waiting for you in that tower for weeks and,” he began and now that he did, he couldn’t stop. “And I’ve been slowly losing hope,” he choked out. “You’re here now and you’re still here but you can’t even talk.”

The frog croaked in protest and Dan laughed wetly, blinking his eyes, trying to chase away the breakdown that wanted to engulf him. He couldn’t now succumb to his usual sadness. Phil needed him. Phil couldn’t pick him up with little croaks.

“Alright, you got this, Dan,” he whispered to himself, looking down at Phil and smiling, his eyes shining with the preceding onfall of tears. He leaned forward and reached out with his finger, patting Phil on the head, trying to comfort his friend who had no means of communication.

“It’s alright. I’ve found you. Or rather, you found me,” he said, smiling when Phil the frog closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, letting out a croaky purr.

“You’re such a cat, Lester,” he teased, giggling when Phil shot him a death stare. He pulled his finger away, smiling and biting his lip as he stared down at Phil.

Before he could start analysing and dissecting —ugh, bad choice of words — and interpret every little reaction and sound, he got up, almost tripping over his own feet as he quickly left the room.

“I’ll bring you some water to keep you moist and some… eee, some food for you. Should I order Harry to catch some flies for you?” he asked teasingly, hand on the handle already.

He tried to convince himself that it was his imagination and that Phil didn’t look disappointed as Dan left.

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“How do I break this curse?” Dan asked but Harry Styles only shook his head.

“Sire couldn’t tell me but he showed me who we had to travel to. He believes you’ll know the answer,” he said and Dan glanced back to Phil who was chilling in a richly ornamented bowl, his froggy legs submerged in the water as his head peeked out over the surface, watching the situation unfold.

Dan groaned, exasperated, and hid his face in his hands.

“I’m not smart,” he mumbled, and Phil croaked so loud that Dan rolled his eyes and stuck his finger into the water, stroking the frog’s cheek.

“Alright, alright, you reptile. Shush now,” he whispered affectionately, missing the pointed glances his and Phil’s servants shared.

“We will leave you two to rest now, your Royal Highnesses,” spoke Harry and both servants curtsied before quickly scurrying out of the room.

Dan hummed, disinterested, as he watched Phil let out another purring croak.

“You like that?” he murmured and laughed when Phil opened his eyes and croaked. “I’m tripping balls looking at you,” Dan mumbled. Phil was… Kind of cute as far as frog aesthetics and frog beauty standards went. He was rather round but carried a certain strength about him like no one should try fucking with him because even though he looked kind of adorable, sitting down on a leaf, he would bite anyone’s finger off if they tried anything.

“Shit,” Dan said, staring off into space.

Phil croaked questioningly.

“I remembered how they take the curse off the frog prince,” he mumbled and looked down. Phil croaked to get him to talk.

Dan blushed and looked away, biting his lip.

“The princess has to kiss the frog prince and he turns back into a man.”

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Phil has been croaking non-stop since Dan told him the ending of this fairy tale and Dan felt a headache forming at his temples.

“I told you I won’t do it so stop freaking out! Please,” he asked but Phil was now swimming in circles in the bowl, still croaking. Dan groaned.

“Dude! I won’t kiss you, I promise!” he said and the frog froze, swimming up to the leaf and slowly jumping on it. Phil turned to look at him and Dan groaned, rubbing his eyes.

This whole situation and the weeks spent alone in the tower were really fucking with Dan’s head because for a second he thought Phil looked disappointed and sad again. It was impossible, though, and Dan stood up, wringing his hair out as he looked back to Phil. Phil who had been enchanted into a fucking frog out of all the animals. A frog that anyone could step on, a frog that anyone could grab and fling at the wall. It would be death on-site for his friend.

Dan felt dizzy at the thought alone and had to catch himself onto the wall, leaning heavily. He breathed with difficulty and closed his eyes, trying to remember the breathing technique his therapist taught him. Phil croaked in a frenzy in the background, but Dan ignored him for a second. He inhaled and exhaled slowly instead, repeating that until he felt more in control. He smiled weakly as he walked up to Phil’s bowl once again.

“We should go to sleep. We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay?” he whispered, setting Phil on the leaf, pulling another one on top of his friend to give him some warmth. Phil croaked, his chin moving up and down with the sound as his observant eyes scanned Dan’s face.

Dan tried to smile a real smile, hoping it was enough to calm Phil, and then scratched under the frog’s chin.

“Goodnight, Philly,” he said softly and turned to the bed, ignoring the desire to understand the meaning behind Phil’s soft croaks.

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Phil was a fucking frog.

It hit him as he lay in bed, the curtains drawn around him, making it impossible for Phil to see the tears that were falling down Dan’s cheeks.

Phil was a fucking frog and Dan couldn’t help him in any way.

A sob escaped from his throat and he quickly covered his mouth with his hands, praying that Phil was already sleeping a peaceful sound sleep of a frog. Dan sighed with relief, sure that his friend was out cold when the frog song began once again. Dan groaned quietly, quickly wiping his face, hoping his face didn’t look too blotchy. He opened the heavy curtains, squinting at the moonlight pooling in through the curtains, and walked up to the table on top of which sat Phil’s bowl.

Phil seemed worried and a quiet croak followed as he climbed up the leaf and reached out with his front… paws? Hands? Legs? He looked as though he wanted— no, he needed Dan to take him into his hands. Dan looked down, aware that Phil knew he’d been crying, and then reached out into the bowl. Phil immediately perked up at this and bounced closer happily, wrapping his front hand-legs around Dan’s finger.

Dan chuckled softly.

“Are you… hugging me?” he whispered, watching the action in amazement. Phil let out a happy croak in response. Dan giggled and shivered. He looked at the half-opened window and bit his lip, glancing down.

“Maybe… you should sleep with me? I mean— on the pillow or on the duvet or something. It’s freezing by the window,” he mumbled, avoiding Phil’s froggy gaze but then his friend was climbing on his hand, croaking out what sounded like agreement.

Dan smiled softly and carried Phil to the bed. He set his friend down on the second pillow, smiling awkwardly as he slid in beside Phil.

Now that his best friend was croaking happily next to him, Dan felt hot all over his body for different reasons. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about their situation.

What if Phil never returned to his normal form? Not that he looked bad in the body of a frog – he definitely looked adorable — but it was very dangerous. What if Dan couldn’t protect him? What if he couldn’t save him and Phil was cursed to live a frog life until his last breath? Wait, how long did frogs live for? Dan’s hands itched to grab his phone and google it so he could move on and past this thought and worry about some more aspects of this crazy situation they got themselves in.

Dan gasped when he felt something touch his hand and he almost sprung out of the bed. Some wild instinct kept him from doing so — and thank the universe it did — because on his hand stood and croaked Phil.

Dan wanted to ask him what was up, but it had no purpose and he stared transfixed as his best friend started making a journey up his arm. Dan giggled, the tiny legs were tickling his skin, and Phil let out another croak as he slowly travelled upwards. Dan went silent when Phil jumped from his shoulder to his neck, gasping at the coldness and because he was just, well, sensitive. With Phil, it seemed different, though. Phil was one of the few who he had no flinch reaction to. Now, the tiny frog seemed to nuzzle itself into his neck.

Dan would laugh if that hug hadn’t felt so damn comforting right now.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, gently patting the back of the frog. “I’m just… worrying, like always. It’s okay,” he whispered but then Phil was croaking once again and Dan bit his lip, shutting his eyes. His mouth opened and he began to tell Phil all the scary thoughts that ran through his mind when he’d been waiting in the tower and how lonely he felt. He spoke like that long into the early hours of the morning before he was dozing off into sleep.

The frog prince was still laying on his chest, purring in a way that frogs do.

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Phil woke up, laying on something soft but when he opened his eyes, he realised that this something soft was rather someone, his friend. He then realised that his memory served him well and the more appropriate ending worked out in the end and changed him back into his human form. Truth be told, he just wanted to comfort Dan. He knew he could worry himself sick.

Phil looked up, smiling as he watched Dan breathe evenly. He had an arm wrapped around Phil but it felt good, it felt steadying. Phil himself was no better, tucked into Dan’s chest, breathing in his scent, watching Dan sleep like the creep he was.

He only wished that Dan understood frog language. Phil definitely wouldn’t mind having to kiss or make out to be changed into his human form. But this… this was not that bad, he thought as he smiled against Dan’s chest, causing his friend to stir. Dan glanced down through his bleary eyes, too sleepy to register that Phil was not a frog anymore.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Phil said softly, laying his head back on Dan’s chest, running his fingers up and down Dan’s arm. Dan shifted slightly but then there were fingers running through his hair and Dan was breathing calmer and calmer until he went back to sleep and his fingers stayed on Phil’s head.

Phil smiled to himself and nuzzled more into Dan, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy this moment.

All fairy tales ended happily and this one, too. They were created for children, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A splash and they're wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @talismandjh from Twitter made this flawless and I'm eternally grateful

Something soft but heavy rested on his chest and Dan blinked his eyes open. He yawned and moved but when he found that he couldn’t, he looked down. He gasped and Phil’s eyes popped open. They were the same eyes that stared at him when Dan held a frog in his hands.

A lazy smile appeared on Phil’s face and he nuzzled his face into Dan’s chest, sighing happily. Dan blinked, confused about why Phil wasn’t pulling away, why this felt so right and okay.

“Phil?”

“Shh, Dan. Don’t talk, don’t think. This is very nice,” he mumbled, and Dan swallowed hard, his fingers instinctively tightening in Phil’s hair.

“Ouch, don’t pull,” his friend muttered, still sleepy, and Dan’s fingers let go quickly.

His whole body seized up in nerves when Phil pushed himself up. He looked at Dan with a small smile on his face. His hair was tangled, there were wrinkles from where he slept on Dan’s shirt, but he looked so fucking good.

Dan swallowed hard.

“You know,” he whispered, looking to Dan and smiling. Dan smiled back because Phil was content and happy and—

“I really wouldn’t mind being rescued with a kiss,” his friend said softly. Dan’s mind short-circuited as Phil’s eyes travelled down to Dan’s lips once again.

His heart hammered in his chest when Dan let his hand slide from Phil’s hair down to his lower back. Phil smiled as it to reassure Dan and reached out to stroke Dan’s cheek. Then his finger touched Dan’s lips, brushing against the skin, and Dan’s breath hitched.

“When I wake up, I really want to know what it feels like,” he murmured.

Dan’s cheeks felt hot, his chest felt hot and his lower abdomen definitely felt hot.

He stared at his friend, unblinking. His fingers still brushed against his lips and his other hand cupped his face as though he was something to treasure. Phil pushed his finger against Dan’s lips, forcing him to open his mouth slightly as gasp left him.

“Will you kiss me?” Dan blurted out, breathless from looking at Phil in this way, from having his fingertips pressed against his lips, from having him pressed up against his body.

Phil smiled and laughed softly. His fingers came to rest on one of Dan’s flushed cheeks.

“And do you want me to?” he whispered. He nuzzled his face in the crook of Dan’s neck, eliciting a gasp from him. He shivered but gave a nod.

Phil grinned against his skin and pulled away to look back at Dan. There was a shit-eating grin on his face and Dan whimpered at how excited he looked. Phil’s expression then changed into one of pure concentration and he shuffled closer to Dan. Although his face moved closer, his eyes were trained on Dan’s lips all the time. Dan felt a déjà vu moment when he welcomed his friend with a similar look.

They both breathed heavily. Dan’s chest was rising and falling rapidly against Phil’s heartbeat that resembled that of a rabbit in pursuit.

Their eyes met and…

And someone poured a bucket of cold water and Dan was gasping. He opened his eyes, swallowing saltwater. Around him was darkness. Phil was no longer pressed against him. His mouth wasn’t inches from Dan’s.

His back hit something hard but grainy and Dan looked around, confused.

He hit the rock bottom. Quite literally.

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One internal freak-out later and the discovery that he apparently had a tail which was scaly (!) and learning that he was a merman (wtf!), Dan decided to swim to the surface.

The depths had unnerving darkness about them that stretched on every way he looked. Dan gravitated towards the surface. He swore he could hear something calling out to him.

When he broke through the surface, he instinctively gasped for air even though he already knew he could easily breathe underwater. Still, the instincts stayed.

Dan had always hated water and just feeling it pressed against his body from every direction caused his chest to constrict in fear. The very thought that he was surrounded by something so vast was overwhelming.

Then he heard shouts and Dan realised that sharp rain was hitting his face and making it difficult to see. He looked around, floating in the water, and gasped.

A wooden ship was sinking nearby, its passengers or sailors running about, trying to load themselves onto safe boats. There was one familiar figure urging everyone to get onto it, shouting commands and looking around, searching for more of the crew.

The storm was merciless, pulling the torn sails like they were just a part of a toy. Then, the wind picked up and one of the masts snapped in half and fell.

Dan’s chest tightened and he shouted for Phil, but the storm was too loud, and Phil was too far away to hear.

The man fell with the mast, the sail encasing him like a material coffin.

The ship was swallowing water and Dan shot under the water, gasping in fear, using whatever fish powers this universe had gifted him with as he swam. Although he got the ship in two minutes it felt like hours. The sheer knowledge that Phil was trapped under that sail, probably swallowing saltwater and maybe unconscious made his heart skip a beat more than once.

He reached the ship, cursing at all the lifeboats that were swimming away from the ship, as though everyone had forgotten about Phil. The water was level with the deck and the ship began to sink faster. Dan swam up to it, trying to navigate Phil’s whereabouts, glancing around, his heart constricted in fear. It both sank and soared when Dan saw his friend sprawled on the deck but crushed by the sail, one of his hands outstretched as though he’d still been fighting when— no, Phil would be alright. He had to be.

Dan swam up to his friend, pushing the floating elements out of his way, calling out. Phil didn’t reply and by the time Dan reached him, his body was under the water. Dan dove in and pushed at the sail, screaming when it didn’t want to let go.

“Fuck you! Phil, fuck, you’re not doing this to me,” he murmured through gritted teeth as he pushed at the sail. Dan thought it must be the adrenaline powering him when the wood gave way and Dan pushed it off Phil. He almost cried in relief.

He swam up to Phil who was pretty much unconscious when Dan pulled him up to the surface. He held him close to his chest, afraid Phil would slip from his grasp and sink to the bottom, to that endless void.

The journey to the shore was all a blur. The strong currents beat against his chest as Dan towed Phil’s unconscious body to the land, calling out to rouse the man.

When he reached the beach, the storm was over. The waves were gentle yet again and soft as they hit Phil on the cheek. Dan was too weak to hold his whole body above the water and could only pull Phil to the shore where the beach started but the water still hit their bodies.

Dan pulled himself up to make sure Phil was alright, pushing at his chest, trying to get him to cough out the water, to _breathe._ Dan had tears in his eyes as he begged and begged and did compressions. He thought he saw a flicker of life, a tremor running through Phil, but as the water slowly receded and less water touched them, his throat burnt, and Dan coughed. He tried to keep up the compressions, but his cough turned dry and Dan pulled away from Phil. He touched his throat, eyes wide when he realised, he was suffocating.

He fell to the sand, breathing desperately, the oxygen a shattered glass to his gills.

Turned on his side, body spasming with pain, Dan didn’t get to see Phil start to cough out water and take his first breaths. His ears rang as he thought about taking his last breath.

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Phil woke with a killer headache. He wiped his face with his hand and hissed when his fingers touched his temples. He pushed himself up, realising his trousers and shirt were wet and he was sprawled on the edge of a beach. He looked around, noticing another figure lying in a similar position as he and the memories from the ship returned full force.

He groaned because thinking hurt but stood up, staggering. He squeezed his eyes shut as he walked to the lifeless figure of another survivor. He wondered if he’d been able to rescue everyone off the ship. He remembered shouting at people to save themselves and jump on the safe boat and then— and then nothing.

He scrunched his nose in confusion when he drew close. It was a strange creature. It had a golden fish-like tail for starters and its torso was bare as it was laying on its belly. The hair was brown and curly, and it looked so much like Dan that Phil’s heart stopped for a second.

His feet took him there because his brain was dead.

He fell to his knees by the figure, jolting the bones in his brain, and rolled over the body.

He still remembered how vibrant his friend’s eyes were when he looked at Phil’s lips and asked to be kissed. However, now his eyes were shut, and skin turned ashen as if dried out.

Phil breathed quicker and shook Dan’s shoulders, then called his name. His heart was beating erratically in his chest because the man did not stir. Phil bit his bottom lip, forcing the tears away, looking around, searching for answers and for help.

He rubbed Dan’s up and down Dan’s arms to rouse him but hissed when his knees burnt. It was low-tide and the beach was dried and hot, warmed up by the sun. Phil thought no more.

He slid his arms under Dan’s back, catching him in a strong grip. Dan stirred slightly and Phil stopped breathing, hoping his friend would come around. When no such thing happened, Phil tightened his grip around Dan and turned to the sea. He carried him, steps sure and steady although his head was pounding, and his leg throbbed. Phil couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dan’s face. It was grey, sunken and the thought that it might have been too late made him sick.

He hissed when the water hit his ankles but pressed on until he was submerged up to his chest.

“Come on, Dan. You stubborn ass,” he mumbled, watching Dan’s face for any sign or a flicker of consciousness.

Then, Dan’s fingers spasmed and his nails dug into Phil’s shoulders. Phil held his breath and watched as the water literally flowed into Dan’s skin, smoothing out the dried lines and travelling across his whole body to nurture him.

It was a beautiful sight. Dan was beautiful.

Brown eyes came into sharp focus, but they were dulled when his friend wriggled out of his hold. His chest rose and fell quickly, and Phil had a thought that he looked like a fish wiggling in someone’s hands.

Dan waved his massive tail around, smacking him in the face. Phil groaned, dazed, and went under. Unable to find his footing, he swallowed saltwater as he panicked, waving his arms about, trying to swim but not even knowing where up was.

Then, big hands grabbed his arm and pulled him up to the surface. Strong arms wrapped around his middle as Phil gasped and coughed.

“Cough it out,” Dan’s comforting voice was whispering into his ear, rubbing circles on his back as Phil spluttered and tried to breathe. Dan pushed his face into Phil’s neck, pressing his lips to Phil’s skin, as he stood behind — or swam? — and Phil spluttered once more, not expecting that at all.

“Dan,” he choked out, but Dan only shushed him as he held him.

“I guess we’re in _The Little Mermaid_ ,” he murmured, and Phil shivered as they stood in the water, so close. “Although I’m rather a big merman,” he joked badly, chuckling, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through Phil’s body.

“Dan—“

“If you repeat that it’s your dream once again, I’ll wipe that smirk off your face with my mouth,” he cut in and Phil gasped as he found the sand under his feet and stood.

“So, this really isn’t some elaborate dream my weird mind has come up with?” Phil mumbled but already knew the answer. He just needed to say something, _anything,_ because Dan saying things like _shutting Phil’s mouth with his own_ rendered him speechless.

Dan only laughed and pressed his nose into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Phil turned in Dan’s direction, smiling when he saw the flicker of excitement across Dan’s face as the temporary merman looked down to Phil’s lips.

“So, do I need to kiss you to turn you into a human? Because you already saved me,” Phil murmured and Dan blushed, gazing down, his hands still steadying Phil as though he didn’t trust him to stand on his own.

Dan opened his mouth but whatever he wanted to say got cut off as screams came from the beach. They both looked in that direction, Dan’s eyes wide opened and Phil tightening his grip around Dan.

The people were growling. Screaming. Letting out what sounded like battle cries as they ran into the water but slowed down the closer they got. Angry looking dogs accompanied them as the men threw something into the water.

Phil’s eyes widened.

“Nets,” he whispered, his hold tightening on Dan. “Fucking nets, Dan! You need to run!” he shouted, turning to his friend.

Dan’s eyes were transfixed on something, his eyes glossed over and his mouth parted. Phil shook Dan but his friend was absent, his gaze fixed, his whole attention captivated by something on the land.

Phil’s head whipped back to the group, following Dan’s gaze. One of the men blew an old horn but no sound was coming out. Phil looked between Dan and the man and realised that whatever this thing was, it was affecting Dan in a dangerous way, as though hypnotizing him. Phil let go of Dan’s hands — they were limp anyway — and ran through the water in the man’s direction, his heavy clothes adding additional weight, dragging his body down. Phil shouted his own battle cry as he jumped on the man, pushing him off his feet, pleased that he was able to.

“Dan! Run!” he shouted as he fought with the man.

Phil took him by surprise but the man was much stronger and bulkier. He threw Phil to the ground, pushing his cheek hard into the sand with his boot.

Phil struggled, screaming in protest, but his words silenced when he looked at the sea. A few men were throwing big nets over Dan, whose eyes looked dazed as he looked around. Phil shouted, pleading him to fight but Dan was cornered.

“Huh, a golden fish and his master?” the man above him mused and Phil trashed, pushing at his shoe, trying to get out. The man laughed and Phil only saw his fist and then he was knocked out.

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When Phil came to, things seemed heavy. His head pounded and the world was spinning slightly. Something was tapping on a window and Phil looked around in confusion before he came face to face with Dan.

He shrieked in surprise, not having expected to see Dan so up-close. His face was pressed up against the glass as he stared worriedly at Phil. He almost tripped as he stepped back.

The door opened then, and the light was switched on. Phil realised that he was standing in front of a gigantic water tank and Dan was inside. His friends turned to look at the door and he snarled at the newcomers. Phil stood up straighter, stepping closer to Dan, wanting to wrap an arm around him. Why couldn’t they find themselves in a universe where he could cuddle with Dan and talk about their newly found feelings instead of wondering what the hell was going on?

“Who are you?” he challenged the three men, crossing his arms, trying to stare them down.

The one at the front laughed and sniggered.

“It’s none of your business. Your golden fish will grant our wishes, understand?”

Phil stared back at them, no shadow of comprehension. A golden fish? Which golden fish?

He turned to look at the water tank once again and his mouth opened as he took in Dan’s gold scales, his mesmerizing, glowing skin. He was… beautiful.

The merman blushed at his staring and a corner of Phil’s lips rose into a smirk.

“No,” he said resolutely as he turned back to them. “He will not. You took us by force and now you’re—“

“—Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do, boy,” the man said, crossing the distance and grabbing Phil by the collar.

Shit.

The man nodded at the two men as he held Phil up, forcing him to swallow in fear.

“Show him,” he snarled and looked back at Phil, laughing. “Look what’ll happen if you don’t talk to your goldfish,” he said.

Something whooshed and hissed. Phil stared in misunderstanding until the water started leaving the tank, the water level decreasing.

“I wonder how much water fish need to stay alive,” he said, and the only thing Phil could do was wiggle in the man’s hold, shouting at them to stop.

Dan swam around the tank in distress, noticing that there was less water with every second. Phil could only shout and plead as the men released so much water that Dan’s tail hit the bottom and he was sprawled on the bottom of the tank. His breathing was irregular as they crossed eyes with Phil. Dan was having a panic attack because they were trapped in some crooked fairy tale universe.

“Stop! Stop this, please!” he yelled, tears in his eyes. When the man let him go, Phil kneeled by the glass window, putting his hand against it, pleading Dan to come here. Dan sighed heavily but slowly crawled over to him and put his hand on the other side so that their hands were kind of touching. When Dan put his forehead against the glass, Phil could see how uneven his breathing was.

Was it because there was too little water? Or because this situation was overwhelming? Both?

“Stop! Now! He’ll— he’ll do what you want,” he promised, trying to help Dan, trying to be somehow in control over the situation.

The pump was stopped, and Dan was sat in the water but Phil somehow knew it wasn’t enough to put Dan at peace.

Phil clawed at the glass, desperate to catch Dan’s eye. The men laughed, turned off the light and left.

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“Are you okay?” Phil asked through the window, tapping at it when Dan gave no response and didn’t move for a total of five minutes.

“Dan?” he called out. His friend lifted his head and turned his tired eyes to him. Phil’s heart broke at the sight. He wanted to pull Dan close to his chest which he couldn’t. He felt a lump form at the back of his throat.

“Why is this tale so dark and violent?” he asked himself and Dan watched his lips as though trying to make out the words. The man shook his head, either having no reply or not understanding Phil.

Phil sighed and looked at Dan through the thick glass. He touched it gently, as though Dan could feel it.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he promised solemnly but Dan’s eyes were already shut closed as he breathed heavily.

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Rescuing them was not so easy. Hours turned into days and then weeks and they were still held captive. Dan had to grant all their man’s wishes. Each of the men had three wishes and whenever they wanted to use up one, they took Phil out of the cell and tossed him into one opposite theirs. They were scared of Dan granting his wish but not only.

It took Phil days to convince them that this mystic creature needed more water, or it would die, and no more wishes would be granted. Dan looked at him with appreciation and fondness when the men added gallons of water, enough for Dan to be fully submerged.

They tried to communicate but it wasn’t really working. The only time Dan was able to speak was when they filled the tank with water to the brim. But that only happened when they wanted him to grant a wish and Phil was never in the room for that. So, Dan and Phil often ended up _trying_ to talk. It hurt and saddened Phil that now that they both wanted to talk some things out, they were physically unable to do so.

Then, one day after a particularly great wish had been granted, the men forgot to drain the water, so the tank was practically full. Phil stumbled into the room, pushed by one of the men, surprised when he saw Dan circling nervously in the tank. He looked back, making sure no one was standing by the door before he ran to the tank, pushing his hands against the glass.

“Dan! Dan, I have an idea,” he whispered, tapping at the glass to catch Dan’s attention.

The beautiful merman swam up to him and Phil motioned upwards, then gestured for Dan to swim up. His friend’s eyes lighted up and he nodded, swimming up and taking a big gulp of air, swimming up to the edge, looking down at Phil as he would do every time the men wanted their wish granted.

Phil breathed out and closed his eyes for a second. He then looked back up at Dan, his fingers tightening against the glass window.

“I wish you lost the tail and grew legs,” he said, holding his breath as he fixed his gaze with Dan’s shocked one and then Dan was speaking the phrase that Phil had heard countless times through the door.

“Your wish will be granted, my Sir,” he said softly. Phil smiled and Dan returned the gesture.

Phil watched, amazed, as the tail started to fade and from under the layer of scales, two legs were coming into view.

“Dan, push yourself up and over the edge, I’ll catch you,” he shouted, watching as Dan tried to do so.

His friend hesitated as he sat on the edge, biting his lip in worry. He then moved his body on the other side and pushed himself off the tank.

Dan yelped as he fell but Phil caught him. He wrapped strong arms around Dan, noticing to his shock and Dan’s horror that his friend was naked. Phil looked everywhere but down at Dan’s bare skin as he sat Dan down on a chair. Cheeks flushed, he offered Dan his coat.

“Are you okay?” he whispered and kneeled on the floor, stroking Dan’s cheek, so happy that he could finally touch and talk to him.

Dan rolled his eyes and wrapped the coat tighter around himself, the modest man that he usually was not.

“I am, let’s get going,” he said and stood up which proved to be a mistake as he went down in a second, swearing.

“Fuck, Phil, couldn’t you think to ask for a pair of legs that worked?” he shot back and Phil blushed in embarrassment as he helped Dan up, pretending Dan hadn’t flashed him as he fell to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay. _I’m_ sorry. You did everything you could,” he mumbled. He leaned on Phil and sighed. “Let’s go.”

Phil nodded and wrapped his arm around Dan’s middle. His skin seemed hot and warm through the coat as they walked to the door. Dan was stumbling beside, his feet practically useless.

“I wish the guards let us out of here,” Phil said, and Dan stared at him, confused before he was opening his mouth, muttering the same sentence.

“Your wish will be granted, my Sir.”

Phil beamed when the door opened. The guard didn’t even look at them, entranced, as they walked past and down the hall and for their freedom.

royal page break

“How did you know?” Dan mumbled as they stumbled down the beach. It was late evening and the sun was just setting. Phil looked over to Dan, blushing.

“Just a hunch. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight anyone. I have non-existent muscles,” he said and Dan laughed softly, leaning against Phil.

“I think I would like your non-existent muscles nonetheless,” Dan shot back and then, “Set me down on the sand, please.”

Phil blushed but nodded and slowly pulled Dan to the ground, plopping down on the warm sand beside his friend.

Dan stared at the setting sun and rested his head on Phil’s shoulder.

“Why was this fairy tale so dark, though?” Phil blurted out as he wrapped an arm around Dan, his breath only quickening when Dan didn’t pull away but leaned into his touch.

His friend laughed and shook his head.

“I told you in the beginning. Didn’t you hear?” Phil shook his head. Dan sighed and looked out at the sea.

“Fairy tales were never written for children. It’s only later that these dark, grim and twisted tales have been converted and family friendlied for the youngest,” he spoke, his voice soft. “Especially the Grimm’s but this one seemed to be some kind of a mix.”

“But at first they were innocent,” Phil protested, turning his head to look down at Dan who only shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the one who threw us into this crazy universe,” he muttered, deflated.

Then,

“Speaking of which,” he said, turning his eyes to Phil. He had a small smile on.

“You still have one wish left. How about going back home? We have a lot to talk about and I’d rather do it in a place where no one wants wishes from me because I have scales and apparently walk naked,” he said jokingly.

Phil chuckled and shook his head. He turned to look at Dan and moved so he could kiss the top of his head, sighing when his nostrils got filled with the smell of Dan’s shampoo.

He breathed out, pulled away, and looked into Dan’s eyes.

“I wish we went back home,” he whispered, and Dan smiled as he leaned in.

Phil’s heart skipped a few beats when Dan kissed his cheek.

“Your wish will be granted, my Sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end. Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta @talismandjh from Twitter for polishing my punctuation

This was not fucking happening.

Dan looked about him, groaning when he realised. They were not in their house but in the middle of a forest. At least Phil was with him this time, he noted with relief, as he watched Phil lay on the hard forest floor, curled up as if he was dozing.

They seemed to have made camp here. A soft light was coming from a small bonfire they laid around. Some backpacks were strewn about and an owl sounded from somewhere in the forest.

Dan bit his lip and shook Phil gently awake. His friend turned to him; eyes scrunched up in confusion but giving Dan a soft smile when he recognised him. Dan gestured around them and Phil frowned.

“Why are we still here?” he mumbled. Dan shrugged.

“Final boss battle?” he retorted as he watched the sun slowly set and the fire burn out.

“Do you have any idea about which tale we’re in this time?” Phil asked, scooting over to Dan and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No clue. Every tale has a forest,” he said bitterly, not liking the way the shadows danced around them. His head shot to the left and he bit his lip, thinking he heard something move there.

Phil’s hand clasped firmly around his shoulder and Dan flinched, not expecting that. His friend was looking at him, eyes fixed on Dan’s.

“We’ll get out of here, okay? I promise.”

Dan just nodded and gave a weak smile.

“Just wish it wasn’t night-time,” he mumbled, leaning into Phil’s side, shamelessly looking for some comfort and warmth. Phil bit his lip and his hand travelled down Dan’s back, wrapping around his middle.

“That okay?”

Dan nodded, smiling.

A few branches snapped and they both sprung to their feet, on high alert. They scanned the tree line, holding their breath. A man walked out of the forest and Dan’s whole body tensed.

“Should we run?” he whispered to Phil whose hold tightened around his middle. His eyes were fixed on the suspicious man.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to want to throw a net over you so that’s a development,” Phil murmured back and Dan snorted.

“It won’t be funny anymore when he kills us,” Dan shot back, wiping the smirk right off Phil’s face. He held Dan even closer to his chest, straightening up as though readying himself to prance.

The man, though, was glancing behind his shoulder, holding his hands up in surrender as he approached.

“I mean no harm,” he stated. Dan raised a brow and crossed his arms.

“Who arst thee?” he spoke and rolled his eyes at the old language. Seriously? Again?

The man looked at them. At this point, they were literally joined at the hip but neither of them made the slightest move. The man ran a hand through his hair as he glanced behind his shoulder once again.

“The townspeople know about you two,” he mumbled nervously.

“They know what?” Phil challenged and Dan felt his muscles move as he tried to appear bigger, flexing. Normally, he’d laugh but not now.

“That you both fancy men,” he blurted out, eyes wide in shock and fear as he looked over his shoulder once more. “Look, they’ll be looking for you. They already are. You must run, please,” he was practically begging, linking his hands as though he were in prayer.

Dan flinched at the words, almost wanting to pull away from Phil, to deny anything. He looked over at Phil, at his stern expression and nudged his friend. He smiled at Phil, though a blush was creeping up on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the man.

“Why do you care?”

The man looked down as he crumpled his hat in his hands.

“My brother was like you, lads. But– he didn’t make it out of the town,” he whispered, and Dan was taken aback by the admission. Phil sprang into action.

“Thank you. We appreciate it,” he said before Dan could ask about the details, about what happened to the brother of this man.

He looked over at Phil and wondered that maybe it was better they would never find out.

Phil squeezed his shoulder and the man nodded, scurrying away as Phil began packing and put out the fire with his boot, picking up the little bag that was apparently theirs.

“Phil,” Dan choked out as he realised that they would have to be on the run in this twisted universe. Phil looked up and stood up, taking Dan’s face in his hands.

“Don’t panic, you hear me? Don’t panic, we’re getting out of here and I’m taking you out for a date in _our_ world,” he assured and then took Dan’s hands in his and squeezed. Dan nodded, taking in a couple of breaths in and out. Just like his therapist told him to. God, he was starting to miss therapy. How was he supposed to explain what happened here?

Phil was then forcing him to walk, to take some steps forward and Dan did but he was very tense and thoughtful. He knew no tale that had a queer element in it and that worried him. Knowing the ending and all its different variations seemed better, no matter how gruesome it was. Everything seemed better than this dark unknown they were trudging through.

“You think it’s like a reference?” Dan blurted out before he could stop himself. Phil almost tripped over a root and Dan caught his hand before he could fall. Phil smiled his thanks, looking down at the ground as they walked. It was already dark, and the only source of light was provided from the moon.

“A reference to what?”

Dan bit his lip as he thought over his next words. They walked in silence for some time.

“To everything,” he said finally. “Everything that’s awaiting us in the real world. YouTube, our families, our friends. The society,” he mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Phil stopped and grabbed Dan’s hand to stop him, too. He forced Dan to look him in the eyes by raising his chin gently.

“You’re scared,” he noted. Dan rolled his eyes and snorted.

“And you’re not?” he shot back.

“Of course I am,” Phil said quietly. “But in the real world, no one will be running after us with pitchforks or shovels.”

Dan snorted. Phil squeezed his hand and looked him dead in the eye, his face blank of any hint of emotion.

“We can separate. At any point. Now or later,” he said, his voice serious in how quiet it was.

Dan shook his head. Living without Phil?

“Phil, I– I’m scared like hell,” he admitted, and Phil nodded and looked down.

Dan smacked his lips together and then opened his mouth.

“But I’d be damned if I walked away like that. This whole… thing, whatever you call it, made me realise two different things.”

Dan took a breath and went on as Phil glanced up, hope in his bright eyes.

“First, that parallel universes are a bitch and I’m gonna hate Grimm’s tales, bad rhymes and weird stories from now on,” he said, causing Phil to chuckle.

“And secondly,” he said, glancing up to Phil and waiting until his friend looked back. “Secondly… that whatever universe I land in, I should be okay if I’m caught up in that hellhole with you,” he whispered, and Phil smiled then grinned and hugged Dan close to his chest.

“I’m glad. And I feel the same,” he murmured into Dan’s hair, rubbing his back.

“Now, let’s find our happy ending, shall we?” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips as he offered Dan his hand. Dan took it and they walked on.

Royal page break

And they walked on and walked on until Dan was slowly losing hope. Phil was trying to keep on a cheerful façade for both of their sake but it was also beginning to fade. It was well past midnight, the night was cold and they were stumbling through the dark. Phil could barely see where he put his feet next.

“Dan, I think we got–“ he trailed off as he looked up and saw some light filtering in through the trees. He squeezed Dan’s hand and dragged him down the hill, quickly breaking into a sprint. Dan was panting beside him, sending worried glances in the direction of the old house, scrunching up his nose.

“I don’t think we should–“ he was saying but he got cut off by the front door creaking loudly as it opened. An older man appeared in the doorframe.

“Good evening, lads! Are you lost?” he bellowed and Phil pulled Dan beside him as he walked to the front.

“The forest is too thick and the sky is too clouded to let us see the road,” Phil said, noticing how quiet Dan seemed to be as he stood by his side.

The old man nodded, thoughtful.

“Wolves are hunting in these forests. You shouldn’t be out here without weapons. So defenceless,” he muttered and Phil raised a brow. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, Dan cut in.

“Could we take cover in your house for the night? We’ll be able to find our way back in the daylight.”

Phil turned to Dan, his mouth opening and closing. The old man grinned wickedly.

“Very well, lads. Do come in,” he said and opened the door wider. Phil gripped Dan’s hand, holding him in place.

“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “This does not look good.”

Dan looked at him and nodded.

“I am. But this is the story we’re in. So, one way or another we will go into this house,” he stressed. “And I’d rather not be forced,” he said, and Phil opened his mouth to argue when the man spoke once again from the doorstep.

“Coming in, lads? Come in, come in, the cold wind is getting in but you are not,” he said jokingly, chuckling at his bad joke. Phil rolled his eyes. Seriously, who was writing these lines?

“Which tale is it anyway?” Phil muttered under his breath as they climbed the stairs.

“Hansel and Gretel. The gay version, I guess.

They went inside the house, Phil’s mind swirling as he tried to remember what _Hansel and Gretel_ was about and how it ended. He looked over at Dan who almost seemed to be lost in thoughts if not for the way he scanned the whole room as if taking in every little detail. Dan was on edge, so Phil decided to be on high alert, too.

The man had a smile plastered on his face and it made Phil feel sick. Suddenly, everything in this house and this universe felt not alright.

“So, what’s your name? What is an old man like you doing out here all alone?” he asked, disregarding the death glare Dan shot his way.

The man laughed and the sounds seemed too perfect, too trained, too fake.

“Oh, I am just living my last days here after the townspeople cast me away,” he said, and Phil scrunched up his nose.

“Townspeople?” he echoed, not seeing the way Dan bit at his bottom lip, the way he wriggled his fingers uncomfortably.

“Oh yes, it was some time ago,” he mused as he turned in the direction of a little stove and put on the water for some tea. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No,” said Dan, walking up to be in the same line as Phil. “Why did they cast you out?” he demanded, almost aggressively. Phil was about to scold him when the old man raised his hand.

“Don’t worry, dear. Your friend means no harm,” he told Phil who felt stunned at what was just unfolding right in front of his eyes. “They didn’t want me there because… because of someone I cared very dearly for,” he said, and Phil’s mouth hung open.

Was this the brother of that man who warned them?

“I still have… his picture. Keep it hidden in my basement, would you want to see it?”

Phil was nodding almost automatically, taking steps in the direction of the door that supposedly led to the basement, but Dan took his hand and gripped, stopping him.

“What–“

“–Let’s do that,” Dan said cheerfully, kissing Phil’s cheek. “And we’re so sorry for your loss, I don’t know what I’d do without my love. You must have gone through a terrible trauma,” Dan spoke, turning to Phil who frowned but quickly morphed his expression into something reassuring.

“I can’t imagine the pain you must have gone through,” Phil carried on, playing along, and the man’s eyes shone with some sick gleam. Phil almost stuttered but the man quickly went back to his heartbroken mask.

He dabbed at his eyes, which appeared to be filled with tears, with a small washcloth.

“Oh, my dear, dear Claus,” he sobbed, and Dan’s hand wrapped tightly around Phil’s middle. He knew his friend was tense all over his body, ready to strike or jump in defence at any point.

“Could we take a look? If we’re not imposing…” Dan said, sending a sweet smile. The man blew his nose and nodded, motioning to the door.

“Not at all, the door is this way,” he said as he opened the door and smiled at them.

Dan smiled back but Phil knew he also smiled this way at middle-aged people who looked at his fashion choice with disdain. He squeezed Phil’s hand and walked over to the door, only peeking in, looking down the dark stairwell.

Phil’s heart was beating fast and he wondered idly what their plan was. He had none but something told him they shouldn’t walk downstairs.

“There’s no light?” Dan asked, looking to the man whose eyes were almost wild by this point as if he was one step away from pushing them down the stairs.

Phil realised he probably was and squeezed Dan’s hand in his.

The old man smiled sheepishly and motioned back at the basement.

“It’s downstairs. On your left,” he assured.

Dan looked off into space for a few seconds as though he pondered something in his head.

“Wait, so left is your right or…” he blurted out and Phil almost burst out laughing. The man groaned and his eyes flashed red as he pulled out his left hand. His fingers gripped Dan’s tighter.

“This is your left. The light switch is on your left.”

Dan watched the man’s hand, pulling out his right hand, observing it with interest.

“So, my left is your right, yeah?” he deadpanned. The old man smiled but Phil saw he gritted his teeth.

Dan smiled apologetically.

“Could you, um, show me?” he asked with the sweetest of voices and the man rolled his eyes and grumbled.

“How stupid must you be not to know which is left,” he muttered under his nose as he walked to the door. He stood in front of the entrance to the basement, tapping the left side of the doorframe.

Dan slipped out of Phil’s hand and glanced at Phil, looking pointedly at the man who was still grumbling. Thanks to some mystic abilities they’ve managed to grow over such a long friendship, Phil knew that they should push the man in the next second.

The old man let out a shriek of surprise and then a horrible, loud grumble which didn’t resemble human’s voice at all. Dan pushed Phil out of the way and quickly shut the door, bolting it for good measure. Inhuman sounds came from downstairs and soon heavy footsteps were heard as the man climbed back up.

“We need to barricade this,” Dan mumbled and then his eyes landed on a heavy vitrine with porcelain mugs and cups and plates. “This. Come on, help me,” he said, breaking Phil out of his stupor.

He walked over to Dan and together they pushed at the heavy furniture, leaving it by the door. It was already being kicked in and Phil took a step back, eyes wide.

The voice of whatever this creature was shouted out its fury and Phil grabbed Dan’s hand His friend gripped back.

“In the original, the old witch holds the children captive and forces Gretel to work for her while Hansel is locked away in a cell because she wants to eat him,” he mumbled as though in explanation, looking back to Phil with lost eyes. “In every tale, the children push the witch into the oven where she burns to death. I didn’t want to kill anyone,” he mumbled, and Phil squeezed his hand.

The old vitrine was shaking with the force of the kicks and Phil realised that the interior of the house was changing. From a pleasant, tidy place into a stinking, grimy ruin. All the cakes that enticed them with their scent earlier now were covered in mould and flies. The food that previously looked mouth-watering now seemed to decay at a horrible pace.

“Do you think– we’re changing universes?” Phil asked, looking around the house with fear.

Dan shook his head.

“I don’t know but we need to get the hell out of here,” he shot back and dragged Phil through the house, pulling the door open. They sprinted down the steps – which seemed to be aging impossibly quickly under their feet – and then ran down the path, away from the wicked house.

Phil then stopped short, pulling Dan to a halt with him, and stared up at the top of the hill they came from. Dan did, too, and gasped.

There, stood people, some holding torches, some pitchforks, some even shovels but all wearing the same angry expressions, full of hatred.

They were clearly outnumbered. Phil swallowed hard and looked to Dan who seemed to stare unblinkingly at the scene that was unfolding in front of their eyes.

This was it. They had no way to escape.

Then, the door of the wicked house was shoved open and it was with a horrible shriek of a creature driven by hatred and violence alone. Phil didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. Instead, he took both of Dan’s hands into his, tugging so that Dan faced and looked at him.

“Hello,” he said quietly, looking into Dan’s scared eyes and reached out to rub his cheek and his jaw with his thumb. Phil paid no attention to the shrieks of the wicked witch or whatever the old man was. Neither did he hear the angry cries of people getting ready for slaughter. Phil smiled as he looked at Dan and into his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise of getting Dan back home. Phil’s face fell at the realisation.

Tears slowly rolled down Dan’s cheek and Phil wiped them away with his thumb, taking a step in his direction. He pulled Dan into an embrace as if he could protect him in any way.

Dan shuddered in his arms but brought his arms around Phil, too, wrapping them around Phil’s neck. He leaned away slightly and looked to Phil’s lips. His eyes widened and a gleam of hope started anew in the dark irises.

“Find the true path and you shall discover… the happy ending within one another,” Dan mumbled the words of that weird talking bird, looking up into Phil’s eyes. His friend gasped in realisation.

Dan didn’t look at the people running down the hill or the witch stumbling down the path. He looked into Phil’s eyes and then down at his lips.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered softly, and Phil swallowed.

“I want you to,” he stuttered out. His heart was racing out of his chest as his fingers squeezed around Dan’s middle and pulled him closer. Dan smiled and, eyes wide, he leaned in. Phil noticed his friend closed his eyes, so he followed. Dan was warm in his arms as their lips met for just a second. Phil tried to chase those chapped lips and Dan did, too, but suddenly the touch of Dan’s fingers was growing more and more ghost-like and the warmth was fading. Dan was melting in his arms with the speed of his favourite ice-cream dissolving into a puddle in the summer.

“Stay. I want you,” Phil pleaded yet.

He only heard Dan faintly call out his name before the world turned upside down and his stomach squeezed as he fell from somewhere high.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fairytale is finished or has it only begun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta @talismandjh from Twitter. If not for you, I wouldn't be able to publish this before the Valentine's Day, as was my intention <3

Phil sat upright in his bed, panting as the last thing he remembered was falling from a very high structure. He woke before he hit the ground.

The man groaned and rubbed at his eyes, still feeling how quickly his heart raced in his chest. He then remembered the immense fear of losing Dan, of terror, and suddenly his mind was swarmed with the kaleidoscope of dreams. He groaned once more, wishing that his mind either let him kiss his best friend or fucked off for good.

He rolled onto the other side of the bed, sticking his face into the pillow, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. He rolled his eyes and groaned as he remembered all the very homo moments from his dreams.

Why was his brain so weird? And why was he dreaming about tales? He didn’t even know any!

Some glass shattered and Phil tensed as he listened to the silence of their flat. Dan cursed under his breath and Phil’s heart did a weird flip as he recalled holding his friend in his arms in a very non-friendly way, as he remembered the way they slept together that night and that Dan didn’t mind. He even seemed happy about such a turn of events. How they escaped the weird goldfish people together and how they managed to put an old witch back in his place. Or at least trap it for long enough to flee.

Phil’s heart sped up as he thought about what Dan told him. His best friend knew the Grimm’s tales so Phil couldn’t have dreamt it up himself. They must have shared that dream and gone through all of that together, and if they did and Dan meant what he said and what he wanted…

Phil jumped out of his bed in an instant, not bothering to put on any shoes as he walked through the hallway and into the kitchen. Dan was just bent down and picking up the shards of the glass he’d just broke. Phil looked away because Dan was kind of sticking his ass out into the air and Phil wanted to be proper.

“Hey,” he said, finding that his voice sounded much sleepier than Phil felt.

Dan jumped, putting his hand over his heart and shaking his head.

“Warn a man, yeah?” he murmured and stood up, not looking up at Phil, avoiding his gaze.

Oh, right. They both went their separate ways last night after their yearly Valentine’s Day tradition. And Phil made things really awkward and now his brain had come up with stupid dreams to rehabilitate the stupid thing he’d done.

Phil’s face fell as he realised that he was being stupid for thinking his dream was anything but one. He watched Dan turn for another glass. His flatmate’s hand shook as he ran the water and filled his glass. Phil furrowed his brows.

“Dan?” he asked quietly, and Dan only shook his head. He went to walk past him, but Phil caught his friend’s arm. He pulled Dan to face him and gasped.

“You– you’ve been crying?” he whispered, shocked and worried that Dan’s eyes were splotchy and red. Dan sniffled quietly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snarled and went to push past him again.

Phil bit his bottom lip, closed his eyes and wished.

“You know, I’ve just had the weirdest dream,” he said and heard Dan stagger in the doorframe. Some water sloshed out of the glass as he stopped so suddenly. For a second, Phil heard nothing but then there it was; the soft tapping he’d learnt by now as Dan walking. Phil opened his eyes and turned back to Dan slowly.

“Tell me,” his friend ordered, eyes heavy with tears and desperation and Phil licked his lips. Dan greedily followed the movement with his amber eyes.

“I had multiple dreams,” he said quietly, watching Dan carefully. “There was a forest in every one of them and– and you were wearing liberating pants,” he mumbled, and a tear fell down Dan’s cheek as he set the glass down on the counter and crossed the distance.

“You fucker,” he said, jabbing a finger at Phil’s chest but he was smiling.

“I woke up an hour ago, went to your room and you were sleeping like a baby,” he said as though in accusation. Phil grinned and shrugged.

“What can I say? I was still trying to chase after the boy who promised me a kiss,” he shot back and Dan rolled his eyes, nudging him as if to warn him. He shifted closer to Phil who drew close as well, as though he were enchanted.

Phil dared to wrap his arms around Dan’s middle and pulled him close.

“Fuck, Phil,” he said, trembling.

Phil pulled away a little and smiled at his friend and looked to his lips again for a brief second.

“I can’t believe this is real. Am I dreaming?” he mumbled. Phil pinched his side and chuckled when Dan shrieked. He looked ready to kill.

“You’re definitely not dreaming. Not anymore,” Phil said quietly, a soft smile grazing his lips.

The words influenced his friend who reached to envelop his arms back around Phil’s neck, pulling them even closer. He could hear Dan’s heart racing in his chest but that made it all the better. Phil looked down at Dan’s lips and then up into his eyes. He smiled and his hand came to stroke Dan’s cheek and jaw with tender affection. Dan let out a soft, breathy sound like he wasn’t sure whether this was pure torture or just what he wanted.

Phil chuckled. Dan’s lips were so close to his.

“Kiss me,” his friend whispered.

So, Phil did.

They could figure out the rest later. For now, Phil only wanted to hold his best friend in his arms and kiss his chapped lips into softness or rawness. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more. He knew, though, he wanted Dan and Dan wanted him.

Wherever Dan went, Phil would go there too, and together, they would find a way back home. No matter how grim the tale, they would always find their happily ever after. Together, they would write their own story, one with a very happy ending.

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day, spent with the people you love, either be it your friends or someone more!


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